^m 


BROWNING 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES, 

APPRECIATIONS,  AND  SELECTIONS  FROM  HIS 

"FIFTY  MEN  AND  WOMEN" 


BY 

PAULINE  LEAVENS 

President  of  The  New  York  Browning  Society 


THE  ALICE  HARRIMAN  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK  CBb  SEATTLE 

1910 


Copyright,  1910 
By  Pauline  Leavens 


GIFT  OF 


THE   PREMIER   PRESS 
NEW    YORK 


TO 

E.  L.   B. 


Ml078()8 


CONTENTS 

Biographical  Notes 11 

The  Brownings'  Friends 23 

Appreciations       - 27 

Browning's  Point  of  View  -         -         -         -         -  51 

Foreword  to  the  Selections         -        -        -        -  67 

Selections 73 

Books  Recommended  for  Study  by  the  New  York 

Browning  Society  -         -         -        -        -127 


IT  is  a  distinct  pleasure  to  render 
acknowledgment  to  the  many  pub- 
lishers who  have  graciously  given 
permission  to  use  most  valuable  ex- 
cerpts from  their  books :  to  Macmillan 
CBi  Co.  for  one  from  Life  of  Gladstone ; 
to  the  Century  Co.  for  Brownin/^  in 
Asolo  and  Katherine  de  Kay  Bronson's 
articles;  to  Crowell  CBi  Co.  for  Intro- 
duction to  Camberwell  Edition;  to 
*  The  Outlook '  for  Pigskin  Library;  to 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons  for  Sonnet  from 
The  White  Bees;  to  Houghton,  Miffiin 
CEi  Co.  for  Mrs.  Orr's  Life  and  Letters  ; 
to  Eaton  CBi,  Mains  for  Best  in  Brown- 
ing; to  Dodd,  Mead  CEi  Co.  for  Literary 
Interpretations;  to  Harper  CEi,  Brothers 
for  Letters  of  Robert  Browning  and 
Elizabeth  Barrett;  and  to  Mary  E. 
Burt  for  Browning's  Women. 

Thanks  are  also  due  to  those  who 
have  written  especially  for  this  book  and 
to  Mr.  F.  Herbert  Stead,  London,  Mrs. 
LeVerne  W.  Noyes  and  Mrs.  Blanche 
Browne  Gillies,  of  Chicago,  Mrs.  Ella  B. 
Hallock,  President  of  Southold  Brown- 
ing Society,  and  Professor  A.  J.  Arm- 
strong, of  Georgetown  University,  for 
definite  information  which  has  been  of 
great  value. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 


This  marnag 

we.3 

solerriDiced 

betrreen  us. 


^C<A^^i-mJt  ^^Js^^/tT^^^^W^ 


Facsiniile  ol  entry  m  ihe  Register  ol  the  Parish  Church  ol  Si.  Marylebone,  S«pU  I2lh  1346. 


\ 


•     •    •  •  ■ 


»  ^9  •       *     » 


BIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

fJROWNING  was  born  to  the  purple — not  to  the 
*^  ecclesiastical,  nor  the  "gaudy  gold,  hard  food  for 
Midas,"  nor  to  the  transitory  crown  of  kings;  but  to 
the  royal  kingdom  of  Poetry,  that  luminous  realm 
where  God  works,  and  man  understands. 

In  his  childhoj^d's  hom^  reji^gion^^^gel^^^^ 
were  the  daily  life  of  the  spirit.    And  love  was  there 
also,*  made  manifest  in  fullness,  and ^  the -oveiflo wing 
"BeauFy  of  nature  all  about  that  pleasant  home  gave  the 
responsive  child,  and  later  the  rnan,  aJDund^      ^PP^F" 
""Tuhity  to  hold  communion  with^  her  visible  forms,  for 
-"^Ht  was  in  the  love  oii^ture  he  ever  Jooked^^  ligjened. 
Tfhen,  with  a  natural  child-love  for  bird  and  beast,  he 
made  friends  with  all  possible  specimens,  and  brought 
them  home  to  a  sympathetic  mother  who  was  his  con- 
fidant.     Later,  they  watched  together  the  spider,  tliat 
"extraordinarily  fine  fellow  which  spun  its  marvelous 
web  over  his  desk,"  as  he  wrote  Bells  and  Pomegran- 
ates.    Later  still  it  was,  with  his  arm  around  her  as 
was  his  custom  whenever  near,  that  he  told  her  the 
secret  of  secrets,   that  he  was   going  to  elope  with 
Elizabeth  Barrett.     To  the  end  of  his  life  he  never 

II 


12  BROWNING 

ce^fe€;4'  to  "be  .'it-.te-rested  in  all  living  things,  and  in  his 
last  sjL?mm^r  .he  whistlfd  encouragingly  to  the  lizards 
pii"'t)i|e,  p'ipturesqub/w^Us?  of  Asolo  as  he  had  done  fifty 
years  before. 

When  about  five  years  old  he  wrote  verses  in  imi- 
tation of  Ossian,  and  "laid  them  up  for  posterity  under 
the  cushion  of  a  great  arm-chair,"  and  it  v^^as  at  this 
period  that  his  father  who  "was  a  scholar  and  knew 
Greek,"  taught  him  the  Homeric  poems  and  illustrated 
them  with  genuine  moving  pictures.  The  architecture 
of  Troy  was  indicated  by  chairs  and  table,  the  cat 
impersonating  the  all-bewitching  Helen,  the  pony 
standing  in  the  stable  aptly  signified  Achilles,  medi- 
tating upon  himself,  v/hile  Tov>7ser  and  Tray  repre- 
sented Agamemnon  and  Menelaus.  The  page-boy 
stood  for  Hector,  and  little  Robert  perched  a-top  the 
citadel  enacting  the  part  of  Priam,  "proud  father  of 
fifty  sons,"  who  had  an  eye  single  for  the  indiscreet 
Paris  supposed  to  be  immured  under  the  footstool. 

Carlyle  once  confided  to  a  friend  that  he  thought 

of  writing  a  life  of  Michael  Angelo,  and 

"mind  ye,  I'll  no*  say  m.uch  about  his  art !"  It  would 
be  quite  as  difficult  to  detach  Brov^ming  from  his 
poetry  as  Michael  Angelo  from  his  art.  l^efore  Brown- 
ing was  tvventy-y«ars.ci.a^e.  he  had  determined  that 
poetry  shoiild  be  the  art  '^hru  which  he  would  express 
his  convictions,  and  he  met  with  the  sympathy  cf 
hts'^father  in  this,^who  virould  gladly  give  his  son  the 


BIOGRAPHICAL    NOTES  13 

opportunity  of  doinsr  what  had  been  denied  himself. 
Browning  always  remembered  this  with  the  deepest 
gratitude.  The  h^meJibra^Fy^^consisLcd  cf  six  thousand^ 
books  with  many  valuohie  drawings  and  pictures^ 
^oTDcrt  Browning,  Senior,  had  a  Dutch  bias  for  pic- 
tures, and  his  son  an  Italian,  hence  the  communion  in 
that  phase  of  art  was  not  as  complete  as  in  Greek 
literature. 

The  modern  poets  that  came  into  Browning's  read- 
ing at  this  time,  exercising  a  strong  influence,  were 
^yr^i^  Keats,  and  Shelley,  especially  the  last.  But 
a  few  years  before,  in  that  classic  land  where  the  "light 
waves  lisp  ^Greece' "  Byron  had  said  his  last  words, 
"now  I  go  to  sleep,"  and  his  body  had  been  refused 
burial  in  Westminster  Abbey,  and  was  laid  in  the 
family  vault  at  Hucknell.  The  heart  of  Shelley  had 
been  torn  from  his  burning  body  by  Trelawny,  while 
Byron  and  Leigh  Hunt  stood  near,  and  buried  under 
the  cypresses  in  Rome. 

Atropos  had  cut  the  frail  cord  that  held  Keats  to 
this  earth  life  and  his  body  was  laid  in  the  same  ceme- 
tery. Shelley  had  some  new  ideas  on  sociology,  and 
was  indulging  in  higher  criticism — more  dangerous 
then  even  than  now.  Naturally  Browning's  young  in- 
quiring mind  laid  hold  on  these  to  his  detriment,  seem- 
ingly, for  a  while,  but  he  acknowledged  later  that  he 
had  not  read  him  aright.  "Shelley  opened  up  for  this 
young  and  enthusiastic  follower  new  vistas  leading 


14  BROWNING 

toward  the  Infinite,  toward  the  unattainable  best,"  says 
Professor  Dowden. 

Pauline  was  the  first  poem  put  into  the  current  of 
publication.  It  was  original  in  form,  filled  with  minute 
description  of  nature  seen  thru  the  eyes  of  devotee, 
and  felt  in  the  heart  of  the  lover.  It  taxed  the  intel- 
lect. There  are  those  who  think  poetry  must  either 
soothe  or  '  make  you  weep — and  some  of  it  does. 
Pauline  was  not  a  good  "seller,"  and  when  Elizabeth 
Barrett  wrote  about  sending  to  the  bookseller  for  a 
copy,  Browning  smiled  in  glorious  security,  he  having 
all  of  those  unsold,  which  meant  most  of  them,  at  the 
house-top.  It  was  thirty  years  before  he  publicly 
acknowledged  the  authorship.  Only  a  few  years  ago 
one  stray  copy  brought  three  hundred  and  twenty-five 
guineas  at  a  sale  in.  London. 

Paracelsus,  full  of  "erudition  turned  into  poetry," 
came  next  on  the  current;  then  Sordello,  Pippa  Passes, 
A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon,  many  Bells  and  Pomegranates 
— and  Browning  was  sitting  among  the  gods,  youngest 
of  them  all.  Carlyle  was  there,  and  Dickens,  Tennyson, 
Thackeray,  Mill,  Hunt,  Wordsworth  and  Landor. 

In  the  meantime.  Browning  had  made  his  first  trip 
into  Italy  to  get  local  color  for  Sordello — which  was 
well  outlined  before  he  went — and  an  idea,  for  what 
afterward  became  Pippa  Passes.  He  went  direct  to 
Trieste,  "then  one  step  just  from  sea  to  land,"  and 
found  Asolo ;  and  all  who  know  Browning  know  Pippa 


BIOGRAPHICAL    NOTES  15 

and  Sordello — for  different  reasons — and  that  it  was 
in  Asolo  that  dear  little  Pippa  sang  out  her  happy 
heart  and  touched  so  many  lives,  and  the  beautiful  and 
irresistible  Palma  led  Sordello  a  v/illing  captive. 

Asolo  is  a  little  city  set  among  the  hills  long  before 
Rome  was,  but  now  the  crumbling  walls,  the  ruined 
fortress,  Queen  Canaro's  Castle,  the  arcaded  streets 
do  but  suggest  the  ancient  grandeur.  The  silk  indus- 
try was  long  ago  taken  nearer  to  railroad  centres,  but 
one  mill  is  still  running,  and  the  one  v/here  Pippa 
"wound  silk  all  day  long  to  earn  just  bread  and  milk" 
has  been  converted  into  a  Lace-School,  and  these  are 
now  social  and  economic  centres,  to  both  of  which 
Mr.  Robert  Barrett  Browning  gives  financial  support 
in  loving  memory  of  his  father.  He  also  purchased 
the  building  so  long  desired  by  Browning,  and  it  is 
called  Pippa's  Tower,  and  from  this  the  beauty  of  the 
surrounding  nature  is  unsurpassed;  it  is  a  sweet,  ten- 
der poem  that  pulls  at  your  heart-strings,  enters  your 
being,  and  compels  the  knowledge  that  you  are  an 
inseparable  part  of  the  Great  Maker  of  all  this  har- 
mony. Asolo  is  easily  accessible  from  Venice;  and 
the  Antique  Inn  offers  a  cordial  welcome,  a  delicious 
cup  of  coffee,  and  a  diminutive  register  where  you  may 
enroll  your  name  among  the  elect  who  seek  this  shrine. 

Browning  made  a  second  trip  to  Italy,  and  was 
planning  another  with  no  premonition  that  he  was 
standing  in  the  gracious  shadow  of  an  all-important 


i6  BROWNING 

event  that  was  coming  on  apace.  Of  this  we  learn  in 
the  published  "Letters  of  Robert  Browning  and  Eliza- 
beth Barrett,"  and  there  we  read  one  of  the  sweetest 
love  stories  ever  told,  and  feel  the  deepest  gratitude 
that  this  sacred  privilege  is  ours.  But  had  they  been 
given  to  us  by  any  other  hand  we  would  feel  that  we 
merited  the  reproof  Browning  gives  to  the  "foolish 
crowd  of  rushers-in  upon  genius  who  come  and  eat 
their  bread  and  cheese  on  the  high  altar,  and  talk  of 
reverence  without  one  of  its  surest  instincts — never 
quiet  till  they  cut  their  initials  on  the  cheek  of  the 
Medicean  Venus  to  prove  they  worship  her.'*  It  is  an 
interesting  point  to  note  in  these  letters  that  Elizabeth 
Barrett's  excel  Browning's  in  erudition,  and  her  lively 
sense  of  humor  and  exceedingly  keen  wit  throws  him 
quite  into  the  pisnumbra — as  a  v^nriter  of  letters. 

All  the  world  knows  the  romantic  begiftning  and 
ending  of  this  correspondence,  and  of  the  memorable 
day  when  they  met  each  other — for  the  first  time  out- 
side her  father's  house — and  were  married  in  Maryle- 
bone  Church,  not  to  meet  again  for  a  week,  when  they 
started  for  Italy,  leaving  a  brief  announcement  of 
their  marriage  in  the  daily  papers. 

This  event  held  attention  far  beyond  the  traditional 
nine  days.  For  these  dwellers  on  Parnassus  to  follow 
the  example  of  Jessica  and  Lorenzo  was  indeed 
worthy  of  attention!  Wordsworth  said:  "So  Robert 
Browning     and     Elizabeth     Barrett     are     gone     off 


BIOGRAPHICAL    NOTES  17 

together.  Well,  I  hope  they  understand  each  other,  no 
one  else  could."  This  reminds  us  of  Browning's 
opinion,  given  confidentially,  that  he  would  go  a  great 
distance  to  see  a  curl  of  Byron's  hair  or  one  of  his 
gloves,  yet  could  not  get  up  enthusiasm  enough  to 
cross  the  room  if  Wordsworth,  Coleridge  and  Southey 
were  all  enshrined  in  the  little  china  bottle  within  the 
limit  of  his  vision.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browning  stayed  a 
few  days  in  Paris,  and  on  by  charming  degrees  to  Pisa 
for  the  winter,  Wilson  and  the  ubiquitous  Flush  in 
attendance.  When  Browning  was  asked  by  Miss 
Barrett  if  Flush  might  go  to  the  "Siren's  Isle"  with 
them,  his  affirmative  answer  came  promptly  back  ex- 
pressing a  wonder  that  she  ever  had  an  approximation 
to  a  doubt  about  it.    Was  ever  little  dog  so  favored? 

With  the  exception  of  an  occasional  trip  to  Paris 
and  London,  the  fifteen  years  of  their  ideal  companion- 
ship was  spent  in  Italy.  "Casa  Guidi"  in  Florence  is 
made  famous  by  them.  Here  the  "King  of  the  Mys- 
tics" and  the  "Daughter  of  Grecian  Genius"  lived  a 
comparatively  secluded  life,  yet  with  a  sympathetic 
hand  on  the  pulse  of  humanity,  for  never  were  poets  or 
statesmen  more  vitally  interested  in  the  politicial  and 
sociological  issues  of  all  nations,  yet  none  ever  rose 
higher  into  the  realms  of  the  ideal.  Mrs.  Jameson, 
who  met  them  in  Paris,  wrote :  "I  know  not  how  these 
two  poet  heads  and  poet  hearts  will  get  on  in  this 
prosaic   world;"   but   how   extremely   well   they   did 


r 


i8  BROWNING 

"get  on"  has  been  told  in  many  ways.  Economy  was 
often  a  necessary  consideration,  but  "bills  were  made 
up  every  week  and  paid  more  regularly  than  bard 
beseems."  "Penini's  lessons  were  given  and  little 
trowsers  creditably  frilled  and  tucked"  and  yet  six- 
teen thousand  lines  taken  to  England  for  publication. 
Here  is  an  instance — there  are  many — to  disprove 
that  generally  accepted  idea  that  genius  must  be  irre- 
sponsible, unmoral  and  averse  to  the  sphere  of  com- 
mon duty.  By  the  very  virtue  of  their  high  calling 
they  cannot  be  so  ignoble. 

The  crown  of  happiness  had  come  with  the  birth 
of  their  son,  and  the  pure  delight  of  motherhood  as 
expressed  by  Pompilia  is  the  interpretation  of  Mrs. 
Browning's  own  joy.  She  once  wrote:  "Robert  and 
I  have  taken  up  our  parental  duties  with  a  perfect 
pasiion." 

Our  pilgrim  feet  took  us,  when  in  Rome,  to  the 
Church  of  Lorenzo-in-Lucina,  near  the  Corso,  in 
which  the  much-loved  Pompilia  was  baptized  and 
married  to  Count  Guido,  and  where  lay  "poor  old 
Pietro,"  "kind,  unwise  Violante,"  and  Pompilia  after 
death.  A  full-length  picture  of  Christ  by  Guido  Reni 
hangs  over  the  altar,  and  the  lions  still  guard  the 
doorway.  Opposite  Treve  fountain,  Castellani  plies 
his  imitative  craft,  surrounded  by  a  rare  collection  of 
art  treasures.  "These  are  my  jewels,"  he  said  with 
a  smile,  and  when  asked  if  he  would  give  them  to 


BIOGRAPHICAL    NOTES  19 

Rome  some  day,  "Oh,  I  don't  know — after  me  the 
deluge,"  quickly  came  the  classic  reply.  He  knew 
Browning  had  mentioned  his  name  in  a  book,  but 
why,  he  did  not  comprehend. 

Harriet  Hosmer  told  the  writer  it  was  in  Rome, 
about  six  years  after  the  marriage,  that  she  modeled 
the  hands  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browning.  In  this  rare 
piece  of  marble  we  see  his  hand,  strong,  beautiful, 
holding  the  other — so  frail  and  delicate — tenderly,  as 
he  ever  held  her  in  his  life,  enveloping  her  with  that 
supreme,  personal  love  which,  like  God*s,  makes  the 
receivers  kneelers.* 

In  Florence,  at  Casa  Guidi,  in  the  opal-dawn  of  a 
late  June  day,  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  closed  her 
eyes  on  this  earth-side  of  death,  whispering  "Beauti-  v^^ 
ful,"  while  a  strong  man  was  left  desolate,  crying, 
"I  want  her,  I  want  her."  At  Venice,  in  Rezzonico 
Palace,  twenty-eight  years  later,  in  the  deepening 
twilight  of  an  early  December  day,  Robert  Browning 
closed  his  eyes  on  this  earth-side  of  death,  kissing  the 
little  ring  She  wore,  and  whispering:  ^ 

"O  thou  soul  of  my  soul !  I  shall  clasp  thee  again. 
And  with  God  be  the  rest!" 

Pauline  Leavens 
Whittier  Hall,  New  York, 
December,  1910 


*  A  bronze  copy  of  these  hands  is  in  the  rooms  of  the  Chici^o  Woman's 
Clttb,  in  the  Fine  Arts  Buildinir*  on  Michigan  Avenue. 


THE  BROWNINGS'  FRIENDS 


THE  BROWNINGS'   FRIENDS 


THINKING  it  might  be  an  item  of  interest  to  note 
the  names  of  the  literati,  artists  and  statesmen 
with  whom  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Browning  walked  and 
talked  we  have  appended  this  list. 

1/ 


Hans  Christian  Andersen 

Matthew  Arnold. 

Sir  Edward  Burne-Jones. 

Thomas  Carlyle. 

Jane  Carlyle. 

Hugh  Arthur  Clough. 

Moncure  D.  Conway. 

Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge.  * 

Hiram  Corson. 

Charlotte  Cushman. 

Charles  Dickens,  xy 

Edward  Dowden. 

George  Elliott. 

Cannon  Farrar. 

Helen  Faucit. 

Kate  Field. 

Frederick  Jas.  Furnivall. 

William  Ewart  Gladstone 

Giuseppe  Garibaldi. 


Edmund  Gosse. 

Frederick  Harrison. 

Benjamin  Robert  Haydon 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne.  *^ 

Thomas  Hood. 

Harriet  Hosmer. 

Leigh  Hunt. 

William  Holman  Hunt. 

Mary  Howitt. 

Anna  Jameson. 

Fanny  Kemble. 

John  Kenyon. 

Charles  Kingsley. 

Alphonse  de  Lamartine. 

Walter  Savage  Landor. 

Sir  Frederick  Leighton. 

Charles  Lever. 

Henry  Lewes. 

John  Gibson  Lockhart, 


24 


BROWNING 


James  Russell  Lowell. 
Edw'd  Rob't  Bulv/er  Lyt- 
ton  (Owen  Meredith). 
Edward  George  Earle 

Lytton. 
Sir  John  Millais. 
Harriet  Martineau. 
James  Martineau. 
Giuseppe  Mazzini. 
Wm.  Charles  Macready. 
George  Meredith.  ^ 
Mary  Russell  Mitford. 
William  Morris. 
Dinah  Maria  Mulock 

(Mrs.  Craik). 
Alfred  De  Musset. 
Mrs.  Sutherland  Orr. 
Margaret  Fuller  Ossoli. 
Theodore  Parker. 
Coventry  Patmore. 
Hiram  Powers. 
Adelaide  Procter. 


Bryan  Waller  Procter 

(Barry  Cornwall). 
Christina  Rossetti. 
Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti. 
William  Michael  Rossetti 
John  Ruskin. 
George  Sand. 
William  Wetmore  Story. 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe.^^ 
Charles  Sumner. 
Algernon  Charles 

Swinburne. 
Arthur  Sym.ons. 
Bayard  Taylor. 
Serjeant  Talfourd. 


Sir  Alfred  Tennyson. 


J 


Frederick  Tennyson.>^ 
William  Makepeace 

Thackeray. 
William  Wordsworth.  ^ 
George  Frederick  Watts. 


APPRECIATIONS 


APPRECIATIONS 

HESE  Appreciations  from  widely  different  sources, 
periods,  and  climes,  are  especially  interesting  at 
this  time — the  approaching  Centenary. 


T 


BROWNING 

How  blind  the  toil  that  burrows  like  the  mole 
In  winding  graveyard  pathways,  underground, 
For  Browning's  lineage !    What  if  men  have  found 

Poor  footmen  or  rich  merchants  on  the  roll 

Of  his  forbears?    Did  they  beget  his  soul? 
Nay,  for  he  came  of  ancestry  renowned 
Through  all  the  world, — the  poets  laurel-crowned 

With  wreaths  from  which  the  autumn  takes  no  toll. 

The  blazons  on  his  poet-shield  are  these : 
The  crimson  sign  of  Shelley's  heart  on  fire, 
The  staff  and  script  of  Chaucer's  pilgrimage. 
The  golden  globe  of  Shakespeare's  human  stage, 
The  rose  of  Dante's  deep  divine  desire. 
The  tragic  mask  of  wise  Euripides. 

Henry  Van  Dyke 
27 


28  BROWNING 

BROWNING  AT  ASOLO 

This  is  the  loggia  Browning  loved, 
High  on  the  flank  of  the  friendly  town ; 

These  are  the  hills  that  his  keen  eye  roved, 
The  green  like  a  cataract  leaping  down 
To  the  plain  that  his  pen  gave  new  renown. 

There  to  the  West  what  a  range  of  blue ! — 
The  very  background  Titian  drew 

To  his  peerless  Loves!  O  tranquil  scene! 
Who  than  thy  poet  fondlier  knew 

The  peaks  and  the  shore  and  the  lore  between? 

See !  yonder's  his  Venice, — the  valiant  Spire, 

Highest  one  of  the  perfect  three. 
Guarding  the  others ;  the  Palace  choir. 
The  Temple  flashing  with  opal  fire, — 

Bubble  and  foam  of  the  sunlit  sea. 

Yesterday  he  was  part  of  it  all, — 

Sat  here,  discerning  cloud  from  snow 

In  the  flush  of  the  Alpine  afterglow. 

Or  mused  on  the  vineyard  whose  wine-stirred  row 
Meets  in  a  leafy  bacchanal. 

Listen  a  moment — how  oft  did  he ! — 

To  the  bells  from  Fontalto's  distant  tower. 

Leading  the  evening  in     ,      .      .     ah,  me! 

Here  breathes  the  whole  soul  of  Italy, 

As  one  rose  breathes  with  the  breath  of  the  bower. 


APPRECIATIONS  29 

Sighs  were  meant  for  an  hour  like  this 
When  joy  is  keen  as  a  thrust  of  pain. 

Do  you  wonder  the  poet's  heart  should  miss 

This  touch  of  rapture  in  Nature's  kiss, 
And  dream  of  Asolo  over  again? 

"Part  of  it  yesterday!"  we  moan? 

Nay,  he  is  part  of  it  now,  no  fear. 
What  most  we  love,  we  are  that  alone. 
His  body  lies  under  the  minster  stone. 

But  the  love  of  the  warm  heart  lingers  here. 

Robert  Underwood  Johnson 

Browning  was  a  m.an  of  the  world  in   the  noble 

sense, — that  sense  in  which  the  saints  of  the  future 

are  to  be  heart  and  soul  one  with  their  fellows.     He 

saw  clearly  that  this  present  is  not  to  be  put  by  for 

any  future ;  that  there  is  no  future  save  in  the  present. 

Other  poets  have  chosen  their  paths  through  the 

.  vast  growths  of  life  and  by  virtue  of  some  principle  of 

selection  and  exclusion  made  a  way  for  themselves. 

r  But  Browning  surrendered  nothing;  he  would  take 

^ife  as  a  whole  or  he  would  reject  it.     He  refused  to 

be  consoled  by  ignoring  certain  classes  of  facts  or  to 

be  satisfied  with  fragments  pieced  together  after  some 

design  of  his  own.    He  must  have  a  vision  of  all  the 

facts:  and  giving  each  its  weight  and  place,  he  must 

make  his  peace  virith  them,  or  else  chaos  and  death  are 


30  BROWNING 

the  only  certainties.  It  is  only  the  great  souls  that 
thus  wrestle  the  whole  night  through  and  will  not  rest 
until  God  has  revealed,  not  indeed  His  own  name,  but 
the  name  by  which  they  shall  henceforth  know  that  to 
them  the  Universe  is  no  longer  voiceless  and  godless. 

Hamilton  Wright  Mabie 

Unless  I  very  greatly  mistake,  judging  from  these 
two  works  ("Sordello"  and  "Pippa  Passes"),  you  seem 
to  possess  a  rare  spiritual  gift,  poetical,  pictorial,  intel- 
lectual, by  whatever  name  we  may  prefer  calling  it; 
to  unfold  which  into  articulate  clearness  is  naturally 
the  problem  of  problems  for  you.  This  noble  endow- 
ment, it  seems  to  me  farther,  you  are  not  at  present  on 
the  best  way  for  unfolding;  and  if  the  world  had 
loudly  called  itself  content  with  these  two  poems,  my 
surmise  is,  the  world  could  have  rendered  you  no 
fataler  disservice  than  that  same!  Believe  me,  I 
speak  with  sincerity;  and  if  I  had  not  loved  you  well, 
I  would  not  have  spoken  at  all.  If  your  own  choice 
happened  to  point  that  way,  I  for  one  should  hail  it  as 
a  good  omen  that  your  next  work  were  written  in 
prose  I  Carlyle 

I  would  rather  have  written  the  "Blot  in  the 
*Scutcheon"  than  any  other  piece  of  modern  times. 
There  is  no  other  man  living  who  could  produce  such 
a  work.  Charles  Dickens 


APPRECIATIONS  31 

To  be  a  poet  is  to  have  a  soul  so  quick  to  discern 
that  no  shade  of  quality  escapes  it,  and  so  quick  to 
feel  that  discernment  is  but  a  hand  playing  with  finely 
ordered  variety  on  the  chord  of  emotion,  a  soul  in 
which  knowledge  passes  instantaneously  into  feeling, 
and  feeling  flashes  back  as  a  new  organ  of  know- 
ledge. George  Eliot 

It  is  some  time  since  we  read  a  work  of  more  un- 
equivocal power  than  "Paracelsus."  We  conclude  that 
its  author  is  a  young  man,  as  we  do  not  recollect  his 
having  published  before.  If  so,  we  may  safely  predict 
for  him  a  brilliant  career  ...  if  he  continues 
true  to  the  promise  of  his  genius.  He  possesses  all  the 
elements  of  a  fine  poet.  John  Forster 

Then  I  became  very  much  addicted  to  Browning, 
and  used  to  read  him  night  and  day.  I  have  never 
myself  quite  understood  what  people  meant,  and  still 
sometimes  seem  to  mean,  by  the  obscurity  and  "diffi- 
culty'* of  "Sordello."  It  is  distinctly  breathless,  and 
it  is  unduly  affected,  but  if  anybody  has  got  a  brain  at 
all  that  brain  ought  not  to  be  very  much  exercised  in 
following  the  fortunes  of  Sordello  and  Taurello,  Al- 
beric,  Adelaide,  and  the  rest.     .      .      . 

The  "Ring  and  the  Book"  is  so  tyrannously  long 
without  any  action ;  so  mercilessly  voluble  without  jus- 


32  BROWNING 

tification  for  the  volubility;  it  has  such  a. false  air  of 
wisdom  and  philosophy  ...  I  remember  think- 
ing of  Porphyria's  love,  and  wishing  that  someone 
had  applied  that  person's  drastic  procedure  to  the  poet 
on  his  own  principles.  George  Saintsbury 

No  one  has  made  men  think  more ;  no  one  has  pene- 
trated further  into  the  mystery  of  human  destiny,  into 
this  conflict  of  the  soul  with  its  Divine  spark  and  its 
infinite  flight  and  of  the  inexorable  laws  necessity 
forges  for  us.  — The  Temps 

Mr.  Browning's  great  merit  will  have  been  to  have 
given  his  name  to  the  woman  he  married.  This  respec- 
table old  gentleman,  in  spite  of  his  nobleness  of  inten- 
tion, has  contributed  above  all  to  make  English  girls 
love  two  things  which  are  least  fitted  for  them :  meta- 
physics and  Florence,  where  they  all  dream  of  living 
in  tete-a-tete  with  Botticelli.  — Figaro 

Among  Browning's  readers  gratitude  exceeds  ad- 
miration. To  convene  a  meeting  of  his  creditors  would 
be  difficult,  for  he  was  little  indebted  to  any,  but  a 
multitude  of  his  debtors  confess  obligations  greater 
than  they  can  estimate.  The  needy  soul  is  Browning's 
best  interpreter,  as  the  hungry  man  best  comprehends 
and  relishes  food.  People  who  have  neither  suffered 
keenly   nor   felt   deeply,   nor   questioned   earnestly — 


APPRECIATIONS  33 

whose  inner  life  is  pale,  dull,  inert,  vapid,  without  aspi- 
ration, craving,  perplexity,  or  intensity — are  disquali- 
fied from  comprehending  and  appreciating  him. 

William  V.  Kelley 


r 


Never  for  a  moment  did  Browning  give  up  his  alle- 
giance to  Christ.  The  poem  "Saul,"  one  of  the  noblest, 
if  not  the  noblest,  of  all  his  poems,  is  the  one  most  in- 
tensely religious.  In  no  other  poem  is  the  claim  of 
Christ  as  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life  of  the 
world  more  profoundly  or  more  beautifully  asserted. 
Its  climax  "To  see  the  Christ  stand,"  is  for  Browning 
the  highest  word  of  poetry,  of  religion,  and  of  life. 
Few,  if  any,  poems  in  the  language  touch  such  depths 
of  the  religious  life  or  induce  within  us  the  conviction 
that  the  incarnation  of  Christ,  besides  being  the  cen- 
tral fact  of  time,  is  the  central  fact  of  eternity  as  well. 
^^^ .-  John  Angus  MacVannel 

Browning's  best  work  ranks  among  the  great  mas- 
terpieces of  literature  because,  like  them,  it  is  an  inex- 
haustible well-spring  of  inspiration  rewarding  the 
reader  with  deeper  perception  of  its  truth  and  fresh 
appreciation  of  its  beauty  with  each  new  reading.  The 
supreme  productions  in  literature  are  those  that  reveal 
their  meaning  more  and  more  the  oftener  we  return  to 
them,  and  in  this  class,  together  with  the  masterpieces 
of  Homer,  Dante,  Goethe    and    Shakspere,    must   be 


34  BROWNING 

placed  those  poems  of  Browning  in  which  he  set'i 
forth  his  essential  message; — the    doctrine    that    no 
achievement  is  final,  that  each  new  attainment  is  but 
the   vantage-ground   from   which   we   climb   to   some 
Eighei-  expressicn'orthe  spirit;  the  conviction  that  the 
possibilities  Tor  rricrai  :^nd  spiritual  progresjs^^a^^  ^^t^f:. 
ally  injiinite  to  an  eternal  soul  in  its  growth  toward  that 
'image  oi'  tEedivine  in  which  we  were  potentially  made. 
y  Nor  can  we  pay  our  poet  any  higher  tribute  than  to  ^ 
I  Say  that  he  practiced  what  he  preached,  that  his  own    / 
|*^>life  was  his  greatest  work  of  art,  that  in  his  own  pro-     j| 
^ressive  unfolding  he  gave  the  world  a  living  interpre-     I 
/tation  of  his  message.  Alfred  W.  Martin  ^^^ 

The  true  function  of  the  dramatist  is  to  create  men 
and  womeli  wlib  tliink,  sj)eak  and  act  not  as  we  would 

i'^wtvc^theift^T)!!!:  as  they  must,  and  always  with  the  ac-      '^ 
cent  of  their'^inHiviS^imT lif!^.    When  the  creation  is  a 

^  fjefs'onality  that  conquers  us  bxl?^  intrinsic  grace  and 
\r^  I  charmTTo  that  wef'eel  that  we  wouid^jcaiiieiiiac-be-fiaich 
ai^'^ne  in  any  misery  or  distress  than  to  forego  such 
excellence,  then  literature  and  ethics  have  met,  right- 
eousness and  art  have  kissed  each  other.  So  have  they 
done  in  "Luria."  John  W.  Chadwick 

Btowning  makf s  subtleties  his  perpetual  pasture. 

Henry  James 


y 


naKes 


A^"V,/'-> 


APPRECIATIONS  35 

We  who  have  learned  to  drink  large  inspirations 
from  his  words  are  especially  glad  to  know  that  he  was 
not  himself  false  to  them  in  his  life;  that  the  man  is 
even  greater  than  the  poet;  and  that  in  the  unseen 
glory  which  he  greeted  with  a  cheer,  we  may  expect  to 
see  him  robed  in  eternal  light,  and  dowered  with  im- 
mortal song.  James  Mudge 

Browning !  Since  Chaucer  was  alive  and  hale. 
No  man  has  walked  along  our  road  with  step 
So  active,  so  inquiring  eye,  or  tongue 
So  varied  in  discourse. 

Walter  Savage  Landor 

Everything  Browningish  is  found  here — the  legal 
jauntiness,  the  knitted  argumentation,  the  cunning 
prying    into    detail,    the    suppressed   tenderness,    the 

humanity,     the     salt     intellectual    humor 

Whatever  else  may  be  said  of  Mr.  Browning  and  his 
work  by  way  of  criticism,  it  will  be  admitted  on  all 
hands  that  nowhere  in  literature  can  be  found  a  man 
and  a  work  more  fascinating  in  their  zvay.  As  for  the 
man,  he  was  crowned  long  ago,  and  we  are  not  one  of 
those  who  grumble  because  one  king  has  a  better  seat 
than  another,  an  easier  cushion,  a  finer  light  in  the 
great  temple.  A  king  is  a  king  and  each  will  choose 
his  place.  Robert  Buchanan 


36  BROWNING 

He  is  the  intellectual  phenomenon  of  the  last  half 
century,  even  if  he  is  not  the  poetical  aloe  of  modem 
English    literature.     His    like    we    have    never    seen 

before In  all  true  poetry  the  form  of  the 

thought  is  part  of  the  thought,  and  never  was  this  ab- 
solute law  of  literary  aesthetics  more  flagrantly  illus- 
trated than  in  the  poetry  of  Robert  Browning.  To  say 
that  Browning  is  the  greatest  dramatic  poet  since 
Shakespeare  is  to  say  that  he  is  the  greatest  poet,  most 
excellent  in  what  is  the  highest  form  of  imaginative 
composition,  because  it  is  the  most  creative. 

Richard  Grant  White 

Browning  is  sometimes  accused  of  having  no  form, 
but  I  find  myself  obliged  to  deny  this  premise. 
BrovTning  not  only  has  form,  but  is  even  multiform; 
not  as  changing  with  contradictory  colors  as  might  a 
chameleon,  but  as  protean,  like  all  life,  and  the  more 
abundant  the  life  the  more  multiform  the  expression. 
He  seems  akin  to  that  centre  of  vitality  which  forgets 
that  it  is  taking  form,  and  is  only  conscious  that  it  is. 

Thomas  R.   Sheer 

Robert  Browning  is  the  poet  who  makes  the  su- 
preme appeal  to  the  spiritualized  intellect.  His  phil- 
osophy reveals  life  in  its  wholeness,  its  failures  being 
merely  the  experimental  process  by  means  of  which 
man  arrives  at  success.     While  Browning  was  not,  I 


APPRECIATIONS  37 

believe,  a  student  of  Hegel,  his  greater  poems  are  yet 
absolutely  permeated  with  the  vital  idealism  of  the 
Hegelian  philosophy.  Lilian  Whiting 


Browning's  whole  theory  of  poetry  is  summed  up  in 
two  lines  in  his  first  poem,  Pauline: 

"And  then  thou  saidst  a  perfect  bard  is  one 
Who  chronicled  the  stages  of  all  life." 

This  definition  says  nothing  about  Art,  Beauty  or 
Rhythm ;  it  declares  the  Poet  primarily  to  be  a  Reporter 
-cf  Life — and  the  greater  variety  of  life  he  portrays  the 
greater  is  his  poetry.  For  this  reason.  Browning  de- 
clared Shakespeare  to  be  the  greatest  of  all  poets,  be- 
cause he  chronicled  more  stages  of  life  than  anyone 
else.  This  theory  Browning  elaborated  in  The  Glove, 
Transcendentalism,  How  It  Strikes  a  Contemporary, 
and  the  last  part  of  The  Ring  and  The  Book. 

Wm.  Lyon  Phelps 


Browning  uncovered  his  head  in  returning  the  salu- 
tation of  a  Priest,  and  touched  his  hat  to  the  meanest 
peasant,  who,  after  the  manner  of  the  country,  lifted 
his  own  to  greet  the  passing  stranger.  "I  always  salute 
the  Church,"  he  said.    "I  respect  it." 

Katherine  de  Kay  Bronson 


38  BROWNING 

The  greatest  portrait  Browning  has  given  us  is  with- 
out doubt  that  of  his  wife.  There  are  grand  portraits 
of  women  that  stand  out,  in  my  mind,  above  all  others, 
namely,  the  portrait  of  Antigone,  the  one  matchless 
woman  of  Greek  poetry;  the  angel  wife  of  Robert 
Browning;  and  the  Beatrice  of  Dante. 

Dante  expressed  his  wish  to  write  of  Beatrice  as 
never  man  had  written  of  women  before;  and  I  think 
the  best  critics  of  the  day  concede  that  Robert  Brown- 
ing is  the  only  poet  since  Dante  that  has  ever  reached 
his  altitude.  Mary  E.  Burt 

Yes,  as  I  think  it  over,  "The  Ring  and  the  Book" 
appears  to  me  one  of  the  great  pen  poems  whose  splen- 
dor can  never  suffer  lasting  eclipse,  however  it  may 
have  presently  fallen  into  abeyance.  It's  such  a  great 
story  and  unfolded  with  such  a  magnificent  breadth 
and  noble  fulness  that  one  who  blames  it  lightly 
blames  him.self  heavily.  William  Dean  Howells 

The  principal  aspiration  of  our  age  is  a  passionate 
longing  for  Truth,  combined  with  a  purity  of  intention, 
and  a  reverence  of  method  in  truth-seeking,  such  as 
has  never  been  equaled  in  any  age.  It  is  an  age  of 
science,  but  also  an  age  of  faith  in  its  sublimest  and 
noblest  aspect;  an  age  of  destruction  if  you  will,  but 
amidst  the  ruins  of  the  temples  of  the  past,  may  already 
be  discovered  the  rising  walls  of  a  new  temple,  dedi- 


APPRECIATIONS  39 

cated  to  a  truly  Spiritual  Religion;  an  age  of  intense 
humanism;  an  age  which  has  literally  taken  some  of 
the  sting  of  death,  and  some  of  the  terrors  from  the 
grave,  in  such  an  age,  what  do  we  most  need?  A 
purer  faith,  a  worthier  philosophy,  a  higher  standard 
of  rectitude,  deeper  springs  of  conduct,  more  reality, 
less  sham,  and  above  all,  a  profounder  confidence  in 
God  and  our  own  truest  selves. 

Among  Humanity's  greatest  helpers  in  achieving 
such  aims,  must  always  stand  the  name  of  Robert 
Browning.  J.  Herman  Randall 

The  well  known  Chicagoan,  James  Charlton,  general 
passenger  agent  for  the  Chicago  and  Alton  Railroad, 
has  the  distinction  of  giving  to  the  American  public 
Browning's  poems  in  a  series  of  Railway  Guides  com- 
mencing in  December,  1872,  and  closing  in  October, 
1874.  Mr.  Charlton  was  sincerely  desirous  of  giving 
his  favorite  poet  such  an  audience  as  never  another 
poet  had. 

This  unique  method  of  treating  the  public  to  poetry 
pleased  Browning  and  a  complete  set  was  sent  him 
by  his  request  and  it  is  now  in  the  archives  of  the 
British  Museum. 

One  of  the  greatest  pleasures  I  have  experienced  in 
years  of  teaching  has  been  the  deep  and  abiding  hold 
that  the  poetry  of  Robert  Browning  has  taken  upon 


40  ^       BROWNING 

my  students.  Year  after  year,  echoes  come  from  the 
Browning  class  bearing  messages  of  thankfulness  and 
love  to  the  poet  whose  words  and  ideals  have  been  so 
assimilated  as  to  have  a  vital  power  in  the  active  lives 
of  these  students.  I  say  unhesitatingly  that  I  believe 
no  English  poet,  except  Shakespeare,  gives  such 
genuine  satisfaction  as  a  reward  for  the  time  expended 
as  Browning,  and  what  is  more,  I  believe  that  any 
intelligent,  conscientious  teacher  with  a  fair  amount 
of  literary  appreciation — and  surely  no  other  ought  to 
teach  literature — can  arouse  greater  and  more  lasting 
enthusiasm  among  college  students  for  Browning  than 
for  any  other  poet, — and  I  have  no  sym.pathy  v/ith  the 
Browning  fad — indeed.  Browning  is  not  for  the  "fad- 
dist"— ^he  is  for  the  man  whose  soul  hungers  for  the 
richest  bounties  poetry  possesses. 

A.  J.  Armstrong 


An  excellent  solemn  chiming,  the  passage  from 
Dante  makes  with  your  "Sordello,*'  and  the  "Sordello" 
deserves  the  labour  which  it  needs,  to  make  it  appear 
the  great  work  it  is.  I  think  that  the  principle  of  asso- 
ciation is  too  subtly  in  movement  throughout  it — so 
that  while  you  are  going  straight  forward  you  go  at 
the  same  time  round  and  round,  until  the  progress 
involved  in  the  motion  is  lost  sight  of  by  the  lookers 
on.  Elizabeth  Barrett 


APPRECIATIONS  41 

Brov/ning  is  almost  alone  in  the  peculiar  height  and 
delicacy  of  his  interpretation  of  womanhood,  and  Pom- 
pilia  the  crowning  illustration  of  this. 

She  is  the  heroic  type  of  womanhood  rising  in  per- 
fect response  to  every  height  of  experience,  discerning 
through  utter  sincerity  and  transparency  of  soul  the 
truth  in  the  highest  relations  of  human  life. 

There  is  infinite  delicacy  and  yet  depth  in  Brown- 
ing's reading  of  the  secrets  of  the  woman's  soul,  the 
glory  and  beauty  of  her  m.otherhood.  Pompilia  is  even 
nearer  than  Caponsacchi  to  The  Truth.  In  each  the 
supreme  hunger  to  serve  the  good  of  the  other,  infi- 
nitely and  forever,  rather  than  to  be  made  happy  by 
or  be  loved  and  satisfied. 

Edward  Howard  Griggs 

Robert  Browning's  view  of  life,  love,  and  immor- 
tality are  three  points  by  which  to  swing  the  broken 
arc  of  earth  and  the  perfect  round  of  heaven.  Life — 
a  riot  of  gladness,  a  man's  sharing  in  the  angel's  high- 
est privilege  of  doing  God's  will :  the  faith  that  every- 
thing means  good  and  means  it  intensely. 

Love — the  Aladdin's  lamp  of  the  soul:  Life's  Sum- 
mum  Bonum:  the  pulsing  heart  flood  against  which 
no  barrier  can  or  ought  to  stand. 

Immortaljtyaw^the  necessary  working  hypothesis  of 
life:  the  one  assumption  that  can  fit  good  and  evil, 
anguish  and  ecstacy:  ignorance  and  omniscience:  God 


42  BROWNING 

and  man  into  one  exquisitely  harmonious  scheme  at 
the  end  of  which  stands  a  human  face,  the  Christ's 
human  hand  to  receive  men  home. 

William  Perry  Eveland 

Humanity  is  made  Sordello's  companion-player  on 
the  stage  of  his  life,  so  that  the  poem  rightly  conceived 
is  not  so  metaphysical  as  is  commonly  supposed,  but 
is  virtually  an  experiment  in  the  evolution  of  a  poet 
and  potential  statesman  by  contact  with  the  social 
world  and  popular  needs  lying  outside  of  his  individual 
nature.  If  in  "Paracelsus,"  Browning's  poem  of  Mind 
and  Heart,  the  scheme  of  evolution  unfolded  was  con- 
cerned with  human  origins,  in  the  **Sordello,"  his  poem 
of  Will,  the  scheme  was  pushed  a  step  farther,  and 
dealt  with  social  processes.  Charlotte  Porter 

I  like  very  many  and  very  different  kinds  of  books, 
and  do  not  for  a  moment  attempt  anything  so  prepos- 
terous as  a  continual  comparison  between  books  which 
may  appeal  to  totally  different  needs,  totally  different 
sets  of  emotions.  For  instance,  one  correspondent 
pointed  out  to  me  that  Tennyson  was  "trivial"  com- 
pared to  Browning,  and  another  complained  that  I  had 
omitted  Walt  Whitman;  another  asked  why  I  put 
Longfellow  "on  a  level"  with  Tennyson.  I  believe  I 
did  take  Walt  Whitman  on  one  hunt,  and  I  like 
Browning,   Tennyson   and   Longfellow,   all   of   them, 


APPRECIATIONS  43 

without  thinking  it  necessary  to  compare  them.     It 

is  largely  a  matter  of  personal  taste 

Nor  does  my  liking  for  Tennyson  prevent  my  caring 
greatly  for  "Childe  Roland,"  "Love  Among  the 
Ruins,"  "Proteus"  and  nearly  all  the  poems  that  I  can 
understand,  and  some  that  I  can  merely  guess  at,  in 
Browning.  I  do  not  feel  the  slightest  need  of  trying  to 
apply  a  common  measuring-rule  to  these  three  poets, 
any  more  than  I  find  it  necessary  to  compare  Keats 
with  Shelley,  or  Shelley  with  Poe.    I  enjoy  them  all. 

Theodore  Roosevelt 

The  British  Public,  who  unceasingly  bragged  of  the 
Shakespeare  of  whom  it  knew  little,  and  the  Spencer 
and  Dryden  and  the  rest,  of  whom  it  knew  practically 
nothing,  ridiculed  the  idea  that  Browning  could  be  of 
the  regal  caste  of  poets  because  he  spoke  a  language 
that  was  not  of  the  sort  it  was  accustomed  to.  Brown- 
ing mixed  no  water  with  his  ink,  as  Goethe  said  our 
modern  poets  do;  there  was  often  little  music  in  his 
words,  and  the  sense  was  at  times  rather  hard  to 
grasp ;  and  so  our  strgng,  robust,  gloriously  sane  poet 
"came  to  his  own  and  his  own  received  him  not."  He 
spoke  vigorous,  pregnant  words,  warm  from  his  great, 
loving  heart,  and  "poured  for  us  wine"  to  brace  our 
souls  in  the  degenerate  days  when  men  were  giving 
up  God  for  the  unknowable,  and  their  faith  in  Chris- 
tianity for  belief  in  "something  not  ourselves  which 


44  BROWNING 

makes  for  righteousness" ;  he  taught  us  a  pure  religion, 
reasonable  and  manly,  robust  and  in  harmony  with 
the  science  of  the  age,  and  fev/  would  listen  and  fewer 
still  would  heed.    Yet  the  age  had  such  need  of  him! 

Edward  Berdoe 

The  character  of  Festus  rivals  that  of  Paracelsus 
in  its  strength  and  individuality.  He  embodies  in  a 
marvelous  degree  the  ideal  friend  of  humanity.  Para- 
celsus would  serve  man  and  God,  but  Festus  Vi/'ould 
serve  God  by  loving  man;  he  holds  the  praise  of  God 
to  be: 

"The  natural  end  and  service  of  a  man 
And  holds  such  praise  is  best  attained  when  man 
Attains  the  general  welfare  of  his  kind." 

Michal,  the  wife  of  Festus,  is  Browning's  first  at- 
tempt to  portray  a  woman.  She  is  little  more  than 
a  vision,  hardly  individualized,  and  looks  out  among 
the  stronger  personalities  of  the  poem  like  the 
shadowy  face  of  an  angel  in  some  old  painting.     She 

"Sweet  Michal."  Mrs.  Fanny  Holy 


i:j 


The  general  belief  expressed  in  the  statement  that 
he  did  not  care  about  form  is  simply  the  most  ridicu- 
lous criticism  that  could  be  conceived.  It  would  be 
far  nearer  the  truth  to  say  that  he  cared  more  for 
form  than  any  other  English  poet  who  ever  lived.    He 


APPRECIATIONS  45 

was  always  moulding  and  modeling  and  inventing 
new  forms.  Among  all  his  two  hundred  or  three 
hundred  poems,  it  would  scarcely  be  an  exaggeration 
to  say  that  there  are  half  as  many  different  meters 
as  there  are  different  poems. 

Gilbert  Keith  Chesterton 


Browning  is  cosmopolitan  because  he  is  following 
the  human  spirit  in  its  countless  avatars,  its  Protean 
changes,  in  every  age  and  nation.  He  is  interested  in 
the  hum.an  spirit  whenever  it  lifts  itself  above  the  in- 
distinguishable mass  of  existence.  Browning  is  not 
interested  in  humanity  as  the  philanthropist  or  demo- 
crat, but  as  the  artist  and  student  of  personality.  He 
prefers  to  present  extreme  examples  of  human  possi- 
bilities, to  have  new  and  peculiar  poetic  material. 
(Cf.  Tennyson.)  The  vindictive  Spanish  monk  jostles 
the  modern  skeptical  bishop;  Caliban's  theology  is  as 
interesting  as  the  aspirations  of  Andrea  del  Sarto.  He 
sits  now  at  the  Mermaid  with  Shakspere  and  the  rest, 
and  now  the  spiritualist  seance  with  Sludge,  the 
Medium.  In  this  ceaseless  interest  in  personality, 
Browning  has  the  insatiable  curiosity  that  marked  the 
Renaissance  and  that  marks  our  times.  The  poet  of 
the  Renaissance  is  Shakspere;  the  poet  of  our  own 
era  is  Browning. 

Frederick  H.  Sykes 


46  BROWNING 

The  first  woman  to  notice  in  this  long  gallery  of 
portraits  is  Balaustion,  the  largest,  healthiest,  happiest 
woman  of  the  group.  A  creature  of  superb  physique, 
a  profound  philosopher  (except  in  love  affairs, — 
neither  men  nor  women  are  philosophers  there),  good 
natured  but  earnest,  witty  but  serious.  She  is  per- 
fectly natural,  a  far  closer  portrait  of  a  real  American 
girl  than  our  own  literature  affords.  She  is  a  true  girl 
in  every  respect,  if  Browning  did  paint  his  own  attrib- 
utes into  her  character.  When  she  is  introduced  to 
us  she  is  sitting  with  four  other  girls;  they  are  all 
seated  easily  together  on  the  bank  of  a  stream,  their 
lips  pursed  up  like  crumpled  rose  leaves;  they  are  lis- 
tening to  the  story  of  her  adventure.     Mary  E.  Burt 

Poets  have  described  the  beauties,  the  sublimities 
of  nature;  Browning  was  the  first  poet,  so  far  as  I 
know,  who  made  a  starved  landscape  poetical;  by 
which  I  mean,  such  a  landscape  appeal  to  the  spiritual 
nature  of  the  reader.  It  is  all  important  in  the  higher 
poetry  that  the  concrete  become  a  direct  spiritual 
medium  to  the  student,  independently  of  any  intel- 
lectual interpretation. 

The  true  function  of  poetry  should  be  to  induce  an 
exercise  of  the  spiritual  nature.  There  are  plenty  of 
other  things  in  this  matter-of-fact  world  to  induce  an 
exercise  of  the  bumptious  intellect. 

Hiram  Corson 


APPRECIATIONS  47 

Instead  of  looking  to  perfection  as  an  inheritance 
of  earth  such  as  is  pictured  by  Shelley  in  symbols,  cos- 
mic and  spiritual,  in  the  closing  act  of  his  "Prometheus 
Unbound,"  Browning's  ideal  grew  to  be  eternal  aeons 
of  struggle  and  growth,  relative  evil  always  holding 
its  appointed  place  as  a  spur  toward  further  effort. 

Helen  A.  Clark 


BROWNING'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 


BROWNING'S  POINT  OF  VIEW 

OPINIONS  are  volatile,  convictions  are  dynamic. 
Browning  consistently  gave  his  opinion  and 
unflinchingly  expressed  his  convictions  on  art,  music, 
science,  evolution,  immortality,  and  men  and  things 
generally.  And  it  is  a  distinct  pleasure  to  add  these 
excerpts  given  over  his  own  signature. 

WHY   I   AM   A   LIBERAL 

"Why?"  Because  all  I  haply  can  and  do, 
All  that  I  am,  now,  all  I  hope  to  be, — 
Whence  comes  it  save  from  fortune  setting  free 

Body  and  soul  the  purpose  to  pursue, 

God  traced  for  both?    If  fetters,  not  a  few, 
Of  prejudice,  convention,  fall  from  me. 
These  shall  I  bid  men — each  in  his  degree 

Also  God-guided — bear,  and  gayly  too? 

But  little  do  or  can  the  best  of  us : 

That  little  is  achieved  through  Liberty. 

Who,  then,  dares  hold,  emancipated  thus. 
His  fellow  shall  continue  bound?     Not  I, 

Who  live,  love,  labor  freely,  nor  discuss 

A  brother's  right  to  freedom.     That  is  "Why." 

51 


52  BROWNING 

A  lady  asked  Browning  to  write  an  inscription  for 
her  gift  to  Gladstone  on  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  his 
marriage.  Browning  answered:  "Surely  your  kind- 
ness, even  your  sympathy,  will  be  extended  to  me 
when  I  say  with  sorrow  indeed  that  I  am  unable  now 
conscientiously  to  do  what,  but  a  few  years  ago  I 
would  have,  at  least,  attempted  with  such  pleasure  and 
pride  as  might  almost  promise  success.  I  have  re- 
ceived much  kindness  from  that  extraordinary  person- 
age, and  what  my  admiration  for  his  transcendent 
abilities  was  and  ever  will  be,  there  is  no  need  to  speak 
of:  but  I  am  forced  to  altogether  deplore  his  present 
attitude  with  respect  to  the  liberal  party,  of  which  I 
am  the  humblest  unit,  am  still  a  member,  and  as  such, 
grieved  to  the  heart  by  every  fresh  utterance  of  his 
which  comes  to  my  knowledge.  Were  I  in  position 
to  explain  publicly  how  much  the  personal  feeling  is 
independent  of  the  political  aversion,  all  would  be 
easy,  but  I  am  a  mere  man  of  Letters,  and  by  the  sim- 
ple inscription,  which  would  truly  testify  to  what  is 
endearing  unalterable  in  my  esteem,  I  should  lead 
people — as  well  those  who  know  me  as  those  who  do 
not — to  believe  my  approbation  extended  far  beyond 
the  bounds  which  unfortunately  circumscribe  it  now. 
All  this — even  more — was  on  my  mind  as  I  sat  last 
evening  at  the  same  table  with  the  brilliantly-gifted 
man  whom  once — but  that  'once'  is  too  sad  to  remem- 
ber." Right  Hon.  John  Morley 

— Life  of  Gladstone 


BROWNING'S    POINT    OF   VIEW  53 

Another  testimony  to  the  vitality  of  Browning  study 
at  the  present  time  reaches  us  in  the  shape  of  a 
daintily  printed  leaflet,  issued  by  the  San  Francisco 
Browning  Society,  a  souvenir  of  one  of  its  mornings 
spent  in  consideration  of  "Bishop  Blougram's  Apol- 
ogy." The  leaflet  shows  the  thoroughness  of  a 
group  of  enthusiastic  students.  It  contains  a  brief 
account  of  the  poems,  including  an  interesting  refer- 
ence to  its  real  hero,  Cardinal  Wiseman,  and  eight  or 
ten  pages  of  notes,  some  of  which  are  admirably  sug- 
gestive. The  fragment  of  a  letter  of  Browning's 
which  is  included  is  worth  quoting: 

"The  most  curious  notice  I  ever  had  was  from  Car- 
dinal Wiseman,  on  Blougram — i.e.,  himself.  It  was 
in  *The  Rambler,'  a  Catholic  journal  of  those  days, 
and  certified  to  be  his  by  Father  Prout,  who  said  no- 
body else  would  have  dared  put  it  in.  The  review 
praises  the  poem  for  its  'fertility  of  illustration  and 
felicity  of  argument,'  and  says  that,  'though  utterly 
mistaken  in  the  very  groundwork  of  religion,  though 
starting  from  the  most  unworthy  notions  of  the  work 
of  a  Catholic  bishop,  and  defending  a  self-indulgence, 
every  honest  man  must  feel  to  be  disgraceful,  [it]  is 
yet,  in  its  way,  triumphant.' " 

And  what  easy  work  these  novelists  have  of  it!  A 
dramatic  poet  has  to  make  you  love  or  admire  his  men 
and  women — they  must  do  and  say  all  that  you  are 


54  BROWNING 

to  see  and  hear — really  do  it  in  your  face,  say  it  in 
your  ears  and  it  is  wholly  for  you  in  your  power,  to 
name,  characterize,  and  so  praise  or  blame  what  is 
so  said  and  done,  so  if  you  don't  perceive  of  yourself 
there  is  no  standing  by  for  the  Author  and  telling  you. 
But  with  these  novelists — a  scrape  of  the  pen — out- 
blurting  of  a  phrase  and  the  miracle  is  achieved 
.  .  .  .  pray  what  think  you  of  Bulwer*s  begin- 
ning a  character  by  informing  that  same  was  endowed 
with  perfect  genius — genius !  — Letters,  Vol.  I 

By  this  time  you  have  got  my  little  book  ("Hohen- 
stiel")  and  seen  for  yourself  whether  I  make  the  best 
or  the  worst  of  the  case.  I  think,  in  the  main,  he 
meant  to  do  what  I  say,  and,  but  for  weakness — 
grown  more  apparent  in  his  last  years  than  formerly — 
would  have  done  what  I  say  he  did  not.  I  thought 
badly  of  him  at  the  beginning  of  his  career,  et  pour 
cause:  better  afterv/ard,  on  the  strength  of  the  prom- 
ises he  made,  and  gave  indications  of  intending  to 
redeem.  I  think  him  very  weak  in  the  last  miserable 
year.  At  his  worst  I  prefer  him  to  Thiers's  best.  I  am 
told  my  little  thing  is  succeeding — sold  1,400  in  the 
first  five  days,  and  before  any  notice  appeared.  I  re- 
member that  the  year  I  made  the  little  rough  sketch  in 
Rome,  i860,  my  account  for  the  last  six  months  with 
Chapman  was — ;///,  not  one  copy  disposed  of.  .  .  . 
"Balustion" — the  second  edition  is  in  the  press,  I  think 


BROWNING'S    POINT   OF   VIEW  55 

I  told  you.    Two  thousand  five  hundred  in  five  months 
is  a  good  sale  for  the  likes  of  me. 

Mrs.   Sutherland  Orr 

— Life  and  Letters 

Edmund  Gosse  asked  Mr.  Browning  what  poems  of 
moderate  length  represented  him  fairly,  and  the  an- 
swer was :  "If  I  knew  what  moderation  exactly  meant 
the  choice  would  be  easier.  Let  me  say  at  a  venture — 
lyrical,  "Saul,"  or  "Abt  Vogler;"  narrative,  "A  For- 
giveness;" dramatic,  "Caliban  Upon  Setebos;"  idyllic 
(in  a  Greek  sense),  "Clive."  Which  means  that  being 
restricted  to  four  dips  in  the  lucky-bag  I  should  not 
object  to  be  judged  by  these  samples  so  far  as  they 
go,  for  there  is  somewhat  beyond  still." 

My  dear  young  friends,  some  people  are  good 
enough  to  say  that  my  writings  are  sometimes  unin- 
telligible; but  I  hope  to  make  myself  intelligible  to 
you  now  when  I  say  how  affected  and  impressed  I  am 
by  this  noble,  this  magnificent  welcome  which  you 
have  given  one  so  unworthy  as  myself.  You  dear 
young  men,  how  I  love  you  all! 

Llangollen,  Sept.,  1886 


56  BROWNING 

Time  has  kindly  co-operated  with  my  disinclina- 
tion to  write  the  poetry  and  the  criticism  besides. 
The  readers  I  am  at  last  privileged  to  expect,  meet  me 
fully  half-way;  and  if,  from  the  fitting  standpoint,  they 
must  still  "censure  me  in  their  v\^isdom"  they  have 
previously  "awakened  their  senses  that  they  may  the 
better  judge."  Nor  do  I  apprehend  any  more  charges 
of  being  willfully  obscure,  unconscientiously  careless, 
or  perversely  harsh. 

Having  hitherto  done  my  utmost  in  the  art  to 
which  my  life  is  a  devotion,  I  cannot  engage  to  in- 
crease the  effort;  but  I  conceive  that  there  may  be 
helpful  light,  as  well  as  reassuring  warmth,  in  the 
attention  and  sympathy  I  gratefully  acknowledge. 
London,  May  14,  1872 

I  wrote  "Sordello"  twenty-five  years  ago  for  only 
a  few,  counting  even  in  these  on  somewhat  more  care 
about  its  subject  than  they  really  had.  My  own  faults 
of  expression  were  many;  but  with  care  for  a  man  or 
book  such  would  be  surmounted,  and  without  it,  what 
avails  the  faultlessness  of  either?  I  blame  nobody, 
least  of  all  myself,  who  did  my  best  then  and  since; 
for  I  lately  gave  time  and  pains  to  turn  my  work  into 
what  the  many  might, — instead  of  what  the  few  must, 
— like:  but  after  all,  I  imagined  another  thing  at  first, 
and  therefore  leave  it  as  I  find  it. 

The  historical  decoration  was  purposely  of  no  more 


BROWNING'S    POINT    OF    VIEW  57 


importance  thang^^c^ground  requiresT"and^my  stress 
lay  on  tlj^^cidents  iiuJa^-^^eiO'pfient  iDf  a  ^oul ;  little 

else^ts^worth  study.-  I,  at  least,  alv/ays  thought  so — 
u,  with  many  known  and  unknown  to  me,  think 
so, — others  may  one  day  think  sp^ 

Browning  seemed  as  full  of  dramatic  interest  in 
reading  "In  a  Balcony"  as  if  he  had  just  written  it  for 
our  benefit. 

One  who  sat  near  him  said  that  it  was  a  natural 
sequence  that  the  step  of  the  guard  should  be  heard 
coming  to  take  Norbert  to  his  doom,  as,  with  a  nature 
like  the  queen's,  who  had  known  only  one  hour  of  joy 
in  her  sterile  life,  vengeance  swift  and  terrible  would 
follow  on  the  sudden  destruction  of  her  happiness. 

"Now,  I  don't  quite  think  that,"  answered  Brown- 
ing, as  if  he  v/ere  follov/ing  out  the  play  as  a  spectator. 
"The  queen  has  a  large  and  passionate  temperament, 
which  had  only  once  been  touched  and  brought  into 
intense  life. 

"She  would  have  died  by  a  knife  in  her  heart.  The 
guard  would  have  come  to  carry  away  her  dead  body. 

"But  I  imagine  that  most  people  interpret  it  as  I 
do,"  was  the  reply. 

"Then,"  said  Browning,  v/ith  quick  interest,  don't 
you  think  it  would  be  well  to  put  it  in  the  stage  direc- 
tions, and  have  it  seem  that  they  were  carrying  her 
across  the  back  of  the  stage?" 

Katherine  de  Kay  Bronson 


58  BROWNING 

The  subjective  poet  is  impelled  to  embody  the  thing 
he  perceives,  and  not  so  much  with  the  reference  to 
many  below  as  to  the  One  above  him,  the  supreme 
/Intelligence  which  apprehends  all  things  in  their  abso- 
/  lute  truth, — an  ultimate  viev/  ever  aspired  to,  if  but 
partially  attained,  by  the  poet's  own  soul.  Not  what 
man  sees  but  what  God  sees, — the  Ideas  of  Plato,  seeds 
of  creation  lying  burning  on  the  Divine  Hand, — 
it  is  toward  these  that  he  struggles.  Not  with  the 
combination  of  humanity  in  action,  but  with  the  primal 
elements  of  humanity,  he  has  to  do ;  and  he  digs  where 
he  stands, — preferring  to  seek  them  in  his  own  soul 
as  the  nearest  reflex  of  that  absolute  Mind. 

— Essay  on  Shelley 


For  it  is  with  this  world,  as  starting  point  and  basis 
alike  that  we  shall  always  have  to  concern  ourselves: 
the  world  is  not  to  be  learned  and  thrown  aside,  but 
reverted  to  and  relearned.  The  spiritual  comprehen- 
sion may  be  infinitely  subtilized,  but  the  raw  material 
it  operates  upon  must  remain.  There  may  be  no  end 
of  the  poets  who  communicate  to  us  what  they  feel 
in  an  object  with  reference  to  their  own  individuality; 
what  it  was  before  they  saw  it  in  reference  to  the 
aggregate  human  mind  will  be  as  desirable  to  know 
as  ever. 

— Essay  on  Shelley 


BROWNING'S    POINT    OF    VIEW  59 

Greatness  in  a  work  suggests  an  adequate  instru- 
mentality; and  none  of  the  lower  incitements,  how- 
ever they  may  avail  to  initiate  or  even  affect  many 
considerable  displays  of  powers,  simulating  to  nobler 
inspiration,  to  which  they  are  mistakenly  referred, 
have  been  found  able  under  the  ordinary  conditions 
of  humanity,  to  task  themselves  to  the  end  of  so  exact- 
ing a  performance  as  a  poet's  complete  work. 

— Essay  on  Shelley 


Gradually  he  (Shelley)  was  learning  that  the  best 
way  of  removing  abuses  is  to  stand  fast  by  truth. 
Truth  is  one,  as  they  are  manifold;  and  innumerable 
negative  effects  are  produced  by  the  upholding  of  one 
positive  principle.  — Essay  on  Shelley 


1  concede,  however,  in  respect  to  the  subject  of  our 
study  as  well  as  some  few  other  illustrious  examples, 
that  the  unmistakable  quality  of  the  verse  would  be 
evidence  enough,  under  usual  circumstances,  not  only 
of  the  kind  and  degree  of  the  intellectual  but  of  the 
moral  constitution  of  Shelley ;  the  whole  personality  of 
the  poet  shining  forward  from  the  poems,  without 
much  need  of  going  further  to  seek  it. 

— Essay  on  Shelley 


6o  BROWNING 

But  Art, — wherein  man  nowise  speaks  to  men, 
Only  to  mankind, — Art  may  tell  a  truth 
Obliquely,  do  the  thing  shall  breed  the  thought. 
Nor  v/rong  the  thought,  missing  the  mediate  word. 
So  m.ay  you  paint  your  picture,  tv/ice  show  truth 
Beyond  mere  imagery  on  the  wall, — 
So,  note  by  note,  bring  music  from  your  mind, 
Deeper  than  ever  e'en  Beethoven  dived, — 
So  write  a  book  shall  mean  beyond  the  facts, 
Suffice  the  eye  and  save  the  soul  beside. 

—Part  XII,  The  Ring  and  the  Book 


Shakespeare! — to   such  name's   sounding,   what   suc- 
ceeds 
Fitly  as  silence  ?    Falter  forth  the  spell, — 
Act  follows  word,  the  speaker  knows  full  well. 

Nor  tampers  with  its  magic  more  than  needs. 

Two  names  there  are:   That  which  the  Hebrew  reads 
With  his  soul  only:    if  from  lips  it  fell, 
Echo,  back  thundered  by  earth,  heaven  and  hell. 

Would  own,  "Thou  didst  create  us !"  Naught  impedes. 

We  voice  the  other  nam.e,  mean's  most  of  might, 
Awesom.ely,  lovingly:  let  awe  and  love 

Mutely  await  their  working,  leave  to  sight 
All  of  the  issue  as — below — above — 
Shakespeare's  creation  rises:  one  remove. 

Though  dread — this  finite  from  that  infinite. 


BROWNING'S    POINT    OF    VIEW  6i 

The  preliminary  step  to  following  Christ,  is  the 
leaving  the  dead  to  bury  their  dead— not  clamoring  on 
His  doctrine  for  an  especial  solution  of  difficulties 
which  are  referable  to  the  general  problem  of  the  uni- 
verse. — Essay  on  Shelley 


All  the  breath  and  the  bloom  of  the  year  in  the  bag  of 
one  bee: 
All  the  wonder  and  wealth  of  the  mine  in  the  heart 
of  one  gem: 
In  the  core  of  one  pearl  all  the  shade  and  the  shine  of 
the  sea: 
Breath    and    bloom,    shade    and    shine, — wonder, 
wealth,  and — how  far  above  them — 
Truth,  that's  brighter  than  gem, 
Trust,  that's  purer  than  pearl, — 
Brightest  truth,  purest  trust  in  the  universe — all  were 
for  me 
In  the  kiss  of  one  girl. 


62  BROWNING 

"The  Poet's  age  is  sad:  for  why? 

In  youth,  the  natural  world  could  show 
No  common  object  but  his  eye 

At  once  involved  with  alien  glow — 
His  own  soul's  iris-bow. 

"And  now  a  flower  is  just  a  flower : 

Man,  bird,  beast  are  but  beast,  bird,  man- 
Simply  themselves,  uncinct  by  dower 

Of  dyes  which,  when  life's  day  began, 
Round  each  in  glory  ran." 

Friend,  did  you  need  an  optic  glass. 
Which  were  your  choice?    A  lens  to  drape 

In  ruby,  emerald,  chrysopras. 
Each  object — or  reveal  its  shape 

Clear  outlined,  past  escape. 

The  naked  very  thing? — so  clear 

That,  when  you  had  the  chance  to  gaze, 

You  found  its  inmost  self  appear 

Through  outer  seeming — truth  ablaze. 

Not  falsehood's  fancy-haze? 

How  many  a  year,  my  Asolo, 

Since — one  step  just  from  sea  to  land — 
I  found  you,  loved  37et  feared  you  so — 

For  natural  objects  seemed  to  stand 
Palpably  fire-clothed!     No — 


BROWNING'S    POINT    OF    VIEW  63 

No  master}^  of  mine  o'er  these! 

Terror  with  beauty,  like  the  Bush 
Burning  but  unconsumed.    Bend  knees, 

Drop  eyes  to  earthward!    Language?    Tush! 
Silence  't  is  awe  decrees. 

And  now?    The  lambent  flame  is — where? 

Lost  from  the  naked  world:  earth,  sky, 
Hill,  vale,  tree,  flower,— Italians  rare 

O'er-running  beauty  crowds  the  eye — 
But  flame?    The  Bush  is  bare. 

Hill,  vale,  tree,  flower — they  stand  distinct. 
Nature  to  know  and  name.     What  then? 

A  Voice  spoke  thence  which  straight  unlinked 
Fancy  from  fact:  see,  all's  in  ken: 

Has  once  my  eyelid  winked? 

No,  for  the  purged  ear  apprehends 

Earth's  import,  not  the  eye  late  dazed: 

The  Voice  said  "Call  my  works  thy  friends! 
At  Nature  dost  thou  shrink  amazed? 

God  is  it  who  transcends." 

— Prologue* 
Asolo,  Sept.  6,  1889 


*T0  MRS.  ARTHUR  BRONSON 
To  whom  but  you,  dear  Friend,  should  I  dedicate  versos — some  few  writ- 
ten, all  of  them  supervised,  in  the  comfort  of  your  presence,  and  with  yet 
another  experience  of  the  gracious  hospitality  now  bestowed  on  me  since 
so  many  a  year, — adding:  a  ch2.rm  even  to  my  residences  at  Venice,  and 
leaving  me  little  regret  for  the  surprise  and  delight  at  my  visits  to  Aaolo 
in  bygone  days?     *     *     » 


FOREWORD    TO    SELECTIONS 


FOREWORD    TO    SELECTIONS 

a  4  RT  helps  us  to  see :   hundreds  can  talk  for  one 
^^        who  can  think,  but  thousands  can  think  for 
one  who  can  see:   to  see  clearly  is  poetry,  prophecy, 
and  religion  all  in  one." 

This  salient  truth  was  spoken  by  Ruskin,  our  great 
high  priest  of  art,  a  personal  friend  and  neighbor  of 
Browning,  as  Carlyle  was  also.  These  three  were  co- 
workers for  the  coming  on  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven — 
and  the  greatest  of  these?  Browning. 

In  considering  the  relative  value  of  the  fine  arts,  we 
must  first  take  cognizance  of  the  all  embracing,  exceed- 
ing difficult  Art  of  Living,  a  problem,  each  and  all  must 
solve  every  day  because  Eternity  is  here  and  now. 
This  pulsating,  recording  Art  takes  high  precedence. 
Poetry  follows,  a  loving,  close  second  for  the  obvious 
reason  that  it  is  the  incisive,  subtle,  interpreter  of  its 
supreme  predecessor.  Life;  and  the  study  of  literature 
from  the  earliest  to  the  latest  reign  has  taught  us  that 
Poetry  is  its  quintessence,  by  the  virtue  of  the  poet's 
power  to  see.  Art — holding  that  it  always  signifies 
the  struggle  towards  perfection — is  the  manifestation 
of  the  Infinite  thru  the  medium  of  the  Finite.    The  Art 

67 


68  BROWNING 

of  Living  is  our  ideal,  expressed  in  action.  This  is  not 
catalogued  in  the  school  curriculum,  Life  alone  is  the 
teacher.  All  other  arts  are  ideals  embodied  in  form, 
and  Life  is  here  the  teacher  also.  In  so  far  as  we  reach 
toward  our  ideals  thru  action,  reduce  the  imperfect 
form  to  the  near-perfect,  dissolve  discordant  sounds 
into  deep  melody,  do  we  lay  hold  on  the  Infinite.  Poets 
have  the  transcendent  power  to  "see  clearly,"  and  it  is 
a  delight  to  stand  close  to  a  clear-thinking  mind,  com- 
bined with  a  tender,  boundless  sympathy,  and  an  un- 
swerving faith  in  the  indissoluble  bond  between  every 
/soul  and  its  Maker.    Such  a  poet  is  Robert  Browning. 

It  is  never  just  to  a  dramatist  to  credit  him  person- 
ally with  the  opinions  or  convictions  expressed  by  the 
children  of  his  brain.  Surely  young  Hamlet's  agoniz- 
ing wail,  "Frailty,  thy  name  is  woman,"  can  not  be 
Shakespeare's  sober  dictum,  whatever  we  may  think  of 
that  incident  of  "the  second-best  featlier  bed." 

In  the  following  pages  Browning's  "fifty  men  and 
women"  speak  for  themselves — in  their  own  name,  and 
it  would  be  somewhat  difficult  to  gather  an  equal  num- 
ber of  men  and  women  from  the  pages  of  any  other 
author  whose  lustre  would  dim  the  stars  in  this  galaxy. 

Here  we  have  the  incomparable  Balaustion ;  the  id^al 
Colombe,  leaving  the  dukedom  and  hastening  to 
Cleves  with  the  heroic  Valence ;  Domizia,  rising  respon- 
sive to  the  nobility  of  Luria ;  elusive  Aprile,  shrinking 
Ignotus,  politic  Ogniben,  Cleon,  whose  culture  hides 


FOREWORD    TO    SELECTIONS  69 

the  hope  of  immortality;  suffering  Mildred,  the  in- 
effably tender  Mertoun,  the  brave  Anael,  despicable 
Sebald,  ready  to  save  himself  and  leave  the  woman  he 
has  wronged ;  Jiiles,  gladly  breaking  his  paltry  models 
up  that  he  may  attain  to  greater  heights  by  the  new 
vision. 

The  necessary  limit-line  of  this  book  prevents  many 
other  "Men  and  Women"  from  expressing  their  views, 
and  also  excludes  innumerable  choice  bits  of  love  and 
lore  to  be  found  in  the  almost  inexhaustible  store- 
house of  erudition  from  which  we  have  gathered  these. 


SELECTIONS 


SELECTIONS 

THERE  they  are,  my  fifty  men  and  women, 
Naming  me  the  fifty  poems  finished ! 
Take  them,  Love,  the  book  and  me  together ; 
Where  the  heart  lies,  let  the  brain  lie  also. 

One  Word  More* 

How  can  we  guard  our  unbelief. 

Make  it  bear  fruit  to  us? — the  problem  here. 

Just  where  we  are  safest,  there's  a  sunset-touch, 

A  fancy  from  a  flower-bell,  some  one's  death, 

A  chorus-ending  from  Euripides, — 

And  that's  enough  for  fifty  hopes  and  fears 

As  old  and  new  at  once  as  nature's  self. 

To  rap  and  knock  and  enter  in  our  soul. 

Take  hands  and  dance  there,  a  fantastic  ring. 

Round  the  ancient  idol,  on  his  base  again, — 

The  grand  Perhaps !  Bishop  Blougram 

— Bishop  Blougram's  Apology 

Why  crown  whom  Zeus  has  crowned  before? 

Balaustion 

— Balaustion's  Adventure 


[•Originally  appended  to  the  collection  of  Poems  called  "Men  and  Women," 
the  greater  portion  of  which  has  now  been,  more  correctly,  distributed  under 
the  other  titles  of  this  edition. — R.  B.] 

73 


74  BROWNING 

So  let  him  wait  God's  instant  men  call  years: 
Meantime  hold  hard  by  truth  and  his  great  soul, 
Do  out  the  duty !   Through  such  souls  alone 
God  stooping  shows  sufficient  of  His  light 
For  us  i'  the  dark  to  rise  by.    And  I  rise. 

Pompilia 
— The  Ring  and  the  Book 

And  for  the  rest, 
I  cannot  tell  thy  messenger  aright 
Where  to  deliver  what  he  bears  of  thine 
To  one  called  Paulus ;  we  have  heard  his  fame 
Indeed,  if  Christus  be  not  one  vv'ith  him— 
I  know  not,  nor  am  troubled  much  to  know. 
Thou  canst  not  think  a  mere  barbarian  Jew 
As  Paulus  proves  to  be,  one  circumcised, 
Hath  access  to  a  secret  shut  from  us? 
Thou  wrongest  our  Philosophy,  O  king, 
In  stooping  to  inquire  of  such  an  one, 
As  if  his  answer  could  impose  at  all! 
He  writeth,  doth  he?  well,  and  he  may  write. 
Oh,  the  Jew  findeth  scholars!  certain  slaves 
Who  touched  on  this  same  isle,  preached  him  and 

Christ ; 
And  (as  I  gathered  from  a  by-stander) 
Their  doctrine  could  be  held  by  no  sane  man. 

Cleon 
— Cleon 


SELECTIONS  75 

I  have  heard  of  those  who  seemed 
Resourceless  in  prosperity, — you  thought 
Sorrow  might  slay  them  v/hen  she  listed ;  yet 
Did  they  so  gather  up  their  diffused  strength 
At  her  first  menace,  that  they  bade  her  strike. 
And  stood  and  laughed  her  subtlest  skill  to  scorn. 
Oh!  'tis  not  so  with  me! 

Mildred 
— A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon 

The  love  of  peace,  care  for  the  family, 
Contentment  with  what's  bad  but  might  be  worse — 
Good  movements  these!  and  good,  too,  discontent, 
So  long  as  that  spurs  good,  which  might  be  best. 
Into  becoming  better,  anyhow. 

Prince  Hohenstiel-Schwangau  (Napoleon  III) 

— Prin  ce  Hohenstiel-Schwangau 

1  have  done  with  being  judged. 
I  stand  here  guiltless  in  thought,  word  and  deed. 
To  the  point  that  I  apprise  you — in  contempt 
For  all  misapprehending  ignorance 
Of  the  human  heart,  much  more  the  mind  of  Christ, — 
That  I  assuredly  did  bow,  was  blessed 
By  the  revelation  of  Pompilia. 

Caponsacchi 
— The  Ring  and  the  Book 


NC 


76  BROWNING 

God  must  be  glad  one  loves  His  world  so  much. 

I  can  give  news  of  earth  to  all  the  dead 

Who  ask  me: — last  year's  sunsets,  and  great  stars 

That  had  a  right  to  come  first  and  see  ebb 

The  crimson  wave  that  drifts  the  sun  away — 

Those  crescent  moons  v/ith  notched  and  burning  rims 

That  strengthened  into  sharp  fire,  and  there  stood, 

Impatient  of  the  azure — and  that  day 

In  March,  a  double  rainbow,  moonlit  summer  nights — 

May's  warm,  slow,  yellow  moonlit  summer  nights — 

Gone  are  they,  but  I  have  them  in  my  soul! 

Luigi 
— Pippa  Passes 

The  aim,  if  reached  or  not,  makes  great  the  life : 
Try  to  be  Shakespeare! 

Bishop    Blougram 

— Bishop  Bloiigraiu's  Apology 

I  know  that  the  great 
For  pleasure  born,  should  still  be  on  the  watch 
To  exclude  pleasure  when  a  Duty  offers: 
Even  as,  the  lov/ly  too  for  Duty  bom. 
May  ever  snatch  a  pleasure  if  in  reach: 
Both  will  have  plenty  of  their  birthright,  Sir? 

Valence 
— Colomhc's  Birthday 


SELECTIONS  77 

Truth  is  the  strong  thing.    Let  man's  life  be  true ! 
And  love's  the  truth  of  mine.    Time  prove  the  rest! 

Norbert 

— In  a  Balcony 

I  trust  in  God — the  right  shall  be  the  right 
And  other  than  the  wrong  while  He  endures: 
I  trust  in  my  own  soul,  that  can  perceive 
The  outward  and  the  inward,  nature's  good 
And  God's :  so,  seeing  these  men  and  myself, 
Having  a  right  to  speak,  thus  do  I  speak. 

Chiappino 
— A  Soul's  Tragedy 

I  take  aught 
That  teaches  me  their  v/rongs  with  greater  pride 
Than  this  your  ducal  circlet.  The  Duchess 

— Colomhe's  Birthday 

God  made  all  the  creatures  and  gave  them  our  love  and 

our  fear, 
To  give  sign,  we  and  they  are  his  children,  one  family 
here.  David 

— Saul 
The  valley-level  has  its  hawks  no  doubt: 
May  not  the  rock-top  have  its  eagles,  too? 

The  Duchess 
— Colomhe's  Birthday 


78  BROWNING 

You  creature  with  the  eyes! 
If  I  could  look  forever  up  to  them, 
As  now  you  let  me,  I  believe,  all  sin, 
All  memory  of  wrong  done,  suffering  borne, 
Would  drop  down,  low  and  lower,  to  the  earth 
Whence   all  that's  low  comes,  and  there  touch  and 

stay- 
Never  to  overtake  the  rest  of  me. 
All  that,  unspotted,  reaches  up  to  you. 
Drawn  by  those  eyes!    What  rises  is  myself. 
Not  me  the  shame  and  suffering;  but  they  sink, 
Are  left,  I  rise  above  them.     Keep  me  so 
Above  the  world! 

Phene 
— Pippa  Passes 


1  am  for  noble  Aureole,  God! 
I  am  upon  his  side,  come  weal  or  woe, 
His  portion  shall  be  mine.     He  has  done  well. 
I  would  have  sinned,  had  I  been  strong  enough. 
As  he  has  sinned.    Reward  him  or  I  v/aive 
Reward !    If  thou  canst  find  no  place  for  him, 
He  shall  be  king  elsewhere,  and  I  will  be 
His  slave  forever.    There  are  two  of  us. 

Festus 
— Paracelsus 


SELECTIONS  79 

And  wisely.     (He  is  Anael's  brother,  pure 
As  Anael's  self.)     Go  say,  I  come  to  her. 
Haste!  I  will  follow  you. 

Oh,  not  confess 
To  these,  the  blinded  multitude— confess, 
Before  at  least  the  fortune  of  my  deed 
Half-authorize  its  means!     Only  to  her 
Let  me  confess  my  fault,  who  in  my  path 
Curled  up  like  incense  from  a  Mage-king's  tomb 
When  he  would  have  the  wayfarer  descend 
Through  the  earth's  rift  and  bear  hid  treasure  forth ! 
How    should    child's    carelessness    prove    manhood's 

crime 
Till  now  that  I,  whose  lone  youth  hurried  past. 
Letting  each  joy  'scape  for  the  Druses'  sake, 
At  length  recover  in  one  Druse  all  joy? 
Were  her  brow  brighter,  her  eyes  richer,  still 
Would  I  confess.    On  the  gulf's  verge  I  pause. 
How  could  I  slay  the  Prefect,  thus  and  thus? 
Anael,  be  mine  to  guard  me,  not  destroy! 

Djabal 
— The  Return  of  the  Druses 

Moreover,  say  that  certain  sin  there  seem, 
The  proper  process  of  unsinning  sin 
Is  to  begin  well-doing  somehow  else. 

Tertium  Quid 
— The  Rin^  and  the  Book 


8o  BROWNING 

A  pretty  woman's  worth  some  pains  to  see, 
Nor  is  she  spoiled,  I  take  it,  if  a  crown 
Complete  the  forehead  pale  or  tresses  pure     . 

Guibert 

— Colomhe's  Birthday 

Djabal,  I  knew  your  secret  from  the  first: 

Djabal,  when  first  I  saw  you     .     .     .     (by  our  porch 

You  leant,  and  pressed  the  tinkling  veil  away, 

And  one  fringe  fell  behind  your  neck — I  see!) 

.     .     .     I  knew  you  were  not  human,  for  I  said 

"This  dim  secluded  house  where  the  sea  beats 

Is  heaven  to  me — my  people's  huts  are  hell 

To  them ;  this  august  form  will  follow  me, 

Mix  with  the  waves  his  voice  will, — I  have  him; 

And  they,  the  Prefect !    Oh,  my  happiness 

Rounds  to  the  full  v/hether  I  choose  or  no ! 

His  eyes  met  mine,  he  was  about  to  speak, 

His  hand  grew  damp — surely  he  meant  to  say 

He  let  me  love  him :  in  that  moment's  bliss 

I  shall  forget  my  people  pine  for  home — 

They  pass  and  they  repass  with  pallid  eyes !" 

I  vowed  at  once  a  certain  vow ;  this  vow — 

Not  to  embrace  you  till  my  tribe  was  saved 

Embrace  me ! 

Anael 
— The  Return  of  the  Druses 


SELECTIONS  8i 

Ay,  Anael,  Anael, — is  that  said  at  last? 

Louder  than  all,  that  would  be  said,  I  knew! 

What  does  abjuring  mean,  confessing  mean, 

To  the  people?    Till  that  woman  crossed  my  path, 

On  went  I,  solely  for  my  people's  sake : 

I  saw  her,  and  I  then  first  saw  myself. 

And  slackened  pace :  "if  I  should  prove  indeed 

Hakeem— with  Anael  by !"  Djabal 

— The  Return  of  the  Druses 

Trade  in  the  dear  Druses? 
Blood  and  sweat  traffic?    Spare  what  yesterday 
We  heard  enough  of!     Drove  I  in  the  Isle 
A  profitable  game?     Learn  wit,  my  son. 
Which  you'll  need  shortly !    Did  it  never  breed 
Suspicion  in  you,  all  was  not  pure  profit. 
When  I,   the  insatiate     .     :.     .     and  so   forth — ^was 

bent 
On  having  a  partaker  in  my  rule? 
Why  did  I  yield  this  Nuncio  half  the  gain. 
If  not  that  I  might  also  shift — what  on  him? 
Half  of  the  peril,  Loys !  Prefect 

— The  Return  of  the  Druses 

Yes,  I  see  now.    God  is  the  perfect  Poet, 
Who  in  His  person  acts  His  own  creations. 

Aprile 

— Paracelsus 


82  BROWNING 

And  am  I  not  the  Prefect  now? 
Is  it  my  fate  to  be  the  only  one 
Able  to  win  her  love,  the  only  one 
Unable  to  accept  her  love?    The  past 
Breaks  up  beneath  my  footing :  came  I  here 
This  morn  as  to  a  slave,  to  set  her  free 
And  take  her  thanks,  and  then  spend  day  by  day 
Content  beside  her  in  the  Isle?    What  works 
This  knowledge  in  me  now?    Her  eye  has  broken 
The  faint  disguise  away:   for  Anael's  sake 
I  left  the  Isle,  for  her  espoused  the  cause 
Of  the  Druses,  all  for  her  I  thought,  till  now. 
To  live  without! 

As  I  must  live !    To-day 
Ordains  me  Knight,  forbids  me     .      .     .     never  shall 
Forbid  me  to  profess  myself,  heart,  arm, 
Thy  soldier! 

Leys 
— The  Return  of  the  Druses 


The  common  problem,  yours,  mine,  everyone's, 
Is — not  to  fancy  what  were  fair  in  life 
Provided  it  could  be, — but,  finding  first 
What  may  be,  then  find  how  to  make  it  fair 
Up  to  our  means :  a  very  different  thing ! 

Bishop  Blougram 
— Bishop  Blougram's  Apology 


SELECTIONS  83 

Were  I  elect  like  you, 

I  would  encircle  me  with  love,  and  raise 

A  rampart  of  my  fellows. 

Festus 
— Paracelsus 


We  shall  not  meet  in  this  world  nor  the  next, 
But  where  will  God  be  absent?    In  His  face 
Is  life,  but  in  His  shadow  healing  too; 
Let  Guido  touch  the  shadow  and  be  healed. 

Pompilia 
— The  Ring  and  the  Book 


Thou  art  my  single  holiday  God  lends  to  leaven 
What  were  all  earth  else  with  a  feel  of  heaven. 

To-morrow  I  must  be  Pippa  who  winds  silk 

The  whole  year  round,  to  earn  just  bread  and  milk : 

But  this  one  day  I  have  leave  to  go. 

And  play  out  my  fancy's  fullest  games; 

I  may  fancy  all  day — and  it  shall  be  so — 

That  I  taste  of  the  pleasures,  am  called  by  the  names 

Of  the  Happiest  Four  in  our  Asolo ! 

Pippa 
— Pippa  Passes 


84  BROWNING 

Lied  is  a  rough  phrase :  say  he  fell  from  the  truth 
In  cUmbing  towards  it! — sure  less  faulty  so 
Than  had  he  sat  him  down  and  stayed  content 
With  thy  safe  orthodoxy,  "White  all  white. 
White  everywhere  for  certain  I  chould  see 
Did  I  but  understand  how  white  is  black, 
As  clearer  sense  than  mine  would."     Clearer  sense,— 
Whose  may  that  be?  mere  human  eyes  I  boast, 
And  such  distinguish  colors  in  the  main, 
However  any  tongue,  that's  human  too, 
Please  to  report  the  matter. 

Ferishtah 
— Ferishtan's  Fancies 


What's  midnight  doubt  before  the  dayspring's  faith? 

Bishop  Blougram 

— Bishop  Bloiigram's  Apology 


Sirs:    I  obeyed.     Obedience  was  too  strange — 
This  new  thing  that  had  been  struck  into  me. 
By  the  look  o'  the  lady, — to  dare  disobey 
The  first  authoritative  word.     'Twas  God's. 
I  had  been  lifted  to  the  level  of  her. 
Could  take  such  sounds  into  m.y  sense. 

Caponsacchi 
— The  Rincr  and  the  Book 


SELECTIONS  85 

Rather  tear  men  out  the  heart 
O'  the  truth!  Sordello 

— Sordello 

.     .     .     'Tis  man's  cause! 
r  Fail  thou,  and  thine  own  fall  is  least  to  dread. 

Luria 
— Luria 

\     My  business  is  not  to  remake  myself, 

But  make  the  absolute  best  of  what  God  made. 

Bishop  Blougram 
— Bishop  Blougrmn's  Apology 

The  more  I  thank  God,  like  my  grandmother,* 

For  making  me  a  little  lower  than 

The  angels  honor-clothed  and  glory-crowned: 

This  is  the  honor, — that  no  thing  I  know, 

Feel  or  conceive,  but  I  can  make  my  own 

Somehow,  by  use  of  hand  or  head  or  heart: 

This  is  the  glory, — that  in  all  conceived, 

Or  felt  or  known,  I  recognize  a  mind 

Not  mine  but  like  mine, — for  the  double  joy, — 

Making  all  things  for  me  and  me  for  Him. 

Prince  Hohenstiel-Schwangau  (Napoleon  III) 
— Prince  HohenstielSchwangau 


Empress   Josephine 


86  BROWNING 

I  proclaim 
The  angel  in  thee,  and  reject  the  sprites 
Which  ineffectual  crowd  about  his  strength, 
And  mingle  with  his  work  and  claim  a  share ! 
Unconsciously  to  the  augustest  end 
Thou  hast  arisen :   second  not  in  rank 
So  much  as  time,  to  him  who  first  ordained 
That  Florence,  thou  art  to  destroy,  should  be. 
Yet  him  a  star,  too,  guided,  who  broke  first 
The  pride  of  lonely  power,  the  life  apart, 
And  made  the  eminences,  each  to  each, 
Lean  o'er  the  level  world  and  let  it  lie 
Safe  from  the  thunder  henceforth  *neath  their  tops; 
So  the  few  famous  men  of  old  combined, 
And  let  the  multitude  rise  underneath, 
And  reach  them  and  unite — so  Florence  grew: 
Braccio  speaks  true,  it  is  well  worth  the  price. 

Domizia 
— Luria 


First  of  the  first, 
Such  I  pronounce  Pompilia,  then  as  now 
Perfect  in  whiteness :     ...     Go  past  me 
And  get  thy  praise — and  be  not  far  to  seek 
Presently  when  I  follow  if  I  may! 

The  Pope 
— The  Ring  and  the  Book 


SELECTIONS  87 

The  prize  is  the  process:  knowledge  means 
Ever-renewed  assurance  by  defeat 
That  victory  is  somehow  still  to  reach, 
But  love  is  victory,  the  prize  itself. 

Ferishtah 
— Ferishtah's  Fancies 


'Twas  a  text 
Whereon    folks    preached    and    praised,    the    district 

through. 
"Oh  make  us  happy  and  you  make  us  good! 
It  all  comes  of  God  giving  her  a  child: 
Such  graces  follow  God's  best  earthly  gift." 

Tertium  Quid 
— The  Ring  and  the  Book 


Then 
You  were  wrong,  you  see;  that's  well  to  see  though 

late: 
That's  all  we  may  expect  of  man  this  side 
The  grave;  his  good  is — knowing  he  is  bad. 
Thus  will  it  be  with  us  when  the  books  ope 
And  we  stand  at  the  bar  on  judgment  day. 

Caponsacchi 
— The  Ring  and  the  Book 


88  BROWNING 

Rejoice  we  are  allied 
To  that  which  doth  provide 
And  not  partake,  effect  and  not  receive! 
A  spark  disturbs  our  clod; 
Nearer  we  hold  of  God 

Who  gives,  than  of  His  tribes  that  take,  I  must  believe. 

Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 
— Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 

Then,  welcome  each  rebuff 
That  turns  earth's  smoothness  rough. 
Each  sting  that  bids  nor  sit  nor  stand  but  go! 
Be  our  joys  three  parts  pain ! 
Strive  and  hold  cheap  the  strain; 
Learn,  nor  account  the  pang;  dare,  never  grudge  the 
throe ! 

Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 
— Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 

Yet  gifts  should  prove  their  use: 
I  own  the  past  profuse 
Of  power  each  side,  perfection  every  turn: 
Eyes,  ears  took  in  their  dole, 
Brain  treasured  up  the  whole; 

Should  not  the  heart  beat  once  "How  good  to  live  and 
learn?" 

Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 
— Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 


SELECTIONS  89 

There^s  not  the  meanest  woman  in  the  world, 
Not  she  I  least  could  love  in  all  the  world, 
Whom,  did  she  love  me,  had  love  proved  itself, 
I  dare  insult  as  you  insult  me  now. 
Constance,  I  could  say,  if  it  must  be  said, 
"Take  back  the  soul  you  offer,  I  keep  mine!" 
But — ''Take  the  soul  still  quivering  on  your  hand, 
The  soul  so  offered,  which  I  cannot  use. 
And,  please  you,  give  it  to  some  playful  friend. 
For — what's  the  trifle  he  requites  me  with?" 
I,  tempt  a  woman,  to  amuse  a  man, 
That  two  may  mock  her  heart  if  it  succumb  ? 
No:  fearing  God  and  standing  'neath  His  heaven, 
I  would  not  dare  insult  a  woman  so. 
Were  she  the  meanest  woman  in  the  world. 
And  he,  I  cared  to  please,  ten  emperors! 

Norbert 
— In  a  Balcony 


I  cannot  chain  my  soul :  it  will  not  rest 
In  its  clay  prison,  this  most  narrow  sphere: 
It  has  strange  impulse,  tendency,  desire 
Which  nowise  I  account  for  nor  explain. 
But  cannot  stifle,  being  bound  to  trust 
All  feelings  equally,  to  hear  all  sides. 

The  Lover 
— Pauline 


go  BROWNING 

But  how  carve  way  i'  the  life  that  lies  before, 
If  bent  on  groaning  ever  for  the  past? 

Balaustion 
— Balaustion' s  Adventure 

False  I  will  never — rash  I  would  not  be! 

This  is  indeed  my  birthday — soul  and  body, 

Its  hours  have  done  on  me  the  work  of  years. 

You  hold  the  requisition :  ponder  it ! 

If  I  have  right,  my  duty's  plain:  if  he — 

Say  so,  nor  ever  change  a  tone  of  voice! 

At  night  you  meet  the  Prince ;  meet  me  at  eve ! 

Till  when,  farewell!     This  discomposes  you? 

Believe  in  your  nature,  and  its  force 

Of  renovating  mine !    I  take  my  stand 

Only  as  under  me  the  earth  is  firm. 

The  Duchess 
— Colomhe's  Birthday 

Ah,  but  a  man's  reach  should  exceed  his  grasp, 
Or  what's  a  heaven  for?    All  is  silver-grey. 
Placid  and  perfect  with  my  art:   the  worse! 
I  know  both  what  I  want  and  what  might  gain; 
And  yet  how  profitless  to  know,  to  sigh 
"Had  I  been  two,  another  and  myself. 
Our  head   would  have   overlooked  the  world!"     No 
doubt.  Andrea  del  Sarto 

— Andrea  del  Sarto 


SELECTIONS  91 

Be  a  god  and  hold  me 

With  a  charm ! 
Be  a  man  and  fold  me 

With  thine  arm ! 

Teach  me,  only  teach,  Love ! 

As  I  ought 
I  will  speak  thy  speech,  Love, 

Think  thy  thought.  ^^^  ^.^^ 

— A  Woman's  Last  Word 
So,  for  her  sake,  as  yours,  I  tell  you  twice 
That  women  hate  a  debt  as  men  a  gift. 
If  I  were  you,  I  could  obtain  this  grace — 
Could  lay  the  whole  I  did  to  love's  account, 
Nor  yet  be  very  false  as  courtiers  go — 
Declaring  my  success  was  recompense; 
It  would  be  so,  in  fact:  what  were  it  else? 
And  then,  once  loose  her  generosity, — 
Oh,  how  I  see  it ! — then,  were  I  but  you, 
To  turn  it,  let  it  seem  to  move  itself, 
And  make  it  offer  what  I  really  take, 
Accepting  just,  in  the  poor  cousin's  hand. 
Her  value  as  the  next  thing  to  the  Queen's — 
Since  none  love  Queens  directly,  none  dare  that, 
And  a  thing's  shadow  or  a  name's  mere  echo 
Suffices  those  who  miss  the  name  and  thing! 

Constance 
— In  a  Balcony 


92  BROWNING 

How  soon  a  smile  of  God  can  change  the  world! 
How  we  are  made  for  happiness — how  work 
Grows  play,  adversity  a  winning  fight! 
True,  I  have  lost  so  many  years :  what  then? 
Many  remain:  God  has  been  very  good. 
You,  stay  here!    'Tis  as  different  from  dreams, 
From  the  mind's  cold  calm  estimate  of  bliss, 
As  these  stone  statues  from  the  flesh  and  blood. 
The  comfort  thou  hast  caused  mankind,  God*s  moon! 

The  Queen 
— In  a  Balcony 


For  the  main  criminal  I  have  no  hope 

Except  in  such  a  suddenness  of  fate. 

I  stood  at  Naples  once,  a  night  so  dark 

I  could  have  scarce  conjectured  there  was  earth 

Anywhere,  sky  or  sea  or  world  at  all: 

But  the  night's  black  was  burst  through  by  a  blaze — 

Thunder  struck  blow  on  blow,  earth  groaned  and  bore, 

Through  her  whole  length  of  mountain  visible : 

There  lay  the  city  thick  and  plain  with  spires, 

And  like  a  ghost  disshrouded,  white  the  sea. 

So  may  the  truth  be  flashed  out  by  one  blow, 

And  Guido  see,  one  instant,  and  be  saved. 

Else  I  avert  my  face,  nor  follow  him 

Into  that  sad  obscure  sequestered  state 

Where  God  unmakes  but  to  remake  the  soul 


SELECTIONS  93 

He  else  made  first  in  vain;  which  must  not  be. 

Enough,  for  I  may  die  this  very  night. 

And  how  should  I  dare  die,  this  man  let  live? 

The  Pope 

— The  Ring  and  the  Book 

Knowledge  and  power  have  rights. 

But  ignorance  and  weakness  have  rights  too. 

There  needs  no  crucial  effort  to  find  truth 

If  here  or  there  or  anywhere  about : 

We  ought  to  turn  each  side,  try  hard  and  see, 

And  if  we  can't,  be  glad  we've  earned  at  least 

The  right,  by  one  laborious  proof  the  more, 

To  graze  in  peace  earth's  pleasant  pasturage. 

Men  are  not  angels,  neither  are  they  brutes : 

Something  we  may  see,  all  we  cannot  see. 

Bishop  Blougram 
— Bishop  Blougram' s  Apology 

As  I  dare  approach  that  Heaven 

Which  has  not  bade  a  living  thing  despair, 

Which  needs  no  code  to  keep  its  grace  from  stain, 

But  bids  the  vilest  worm  that  turns  on  it 

Desist  and  be  forgiven, — I — forgive  not, 

But  bless  you,  Thorold,  from  my  soul  of  souls ! 

Mildred 
— A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon 


94  BROWNING 

To  have  to  do  with  nothing  but  the  true, 
The  good,  the  eternal, — and  these,  not  alone 
In  the  main  current  of  the  general  life, 
But  small  experiences  of  every  day. 
Concerns  of  the  particular  hearth  and  home. 

Caponsacchi 
— The  Ring  and  the  Book 

There  was  a  young  fellow  here,  Jules,  a  foreign 
sculptor,  I  did  my  utmost  to  advance,  that  the  Church 
might  be  a  gainer  by  us  both :  he  was  going  on  hope- 
^1.  fully  enough,  and  of  a  sudden  he  notifies  to  me  some 
marvelous  change  that  has  happened  in  his  notions  of 
art. 

Here's  his  letter :  "He  never  had  a  clearly  conceived 
ideal  within  his  brain  till  to-day. 

"Yet  since  his  hand  could  manage  a  chisel,  he  has 
practised  expressing  other  men's  ideals;  and,  in  the 
very  perfection  he  has  attained,  he  foresees  an  ultimate 
failure:  his  unconscious  hand  will  pursue  its  pre- 
scribed course  of  old  years,  and  will  reproduce  with  a 
fatal  expertness  the  ancient  types,  let  the  novel  one 
appear  never  so  palpably  to  his  spirit.  There  is  but 
one  method  of  escape :  confiding  the  virgin  type  to  as 
chaste  a  hand,  he  will  turn  painter  instead  of  sculptor, 
and  paint,  not  carve,  its  characteristics." 

Monsignor 
— Pippa  Passes 


SELECTIONS  95 

Gladness  be  with  thee,  Helper  of  our  world! 

I  think  this  is  the  authentic  sign  and  seal 

Of  Godship,  that  it  ever  waxes  glad, 

And  more  glad,  until  gladness  blossoms,  bursts 

Into  a  rage  to  suffer  for  mankind. 

And  recommence  at  sorrow :  drops  like  seed 

After  the  blossom,  ultimate  of  all. 

Say,  does  the  seed  scorn  earth  and  seek  the  sun? 

Surely  it  has  no  other  end  and  aim 

Than  to  drop,  once  more  die  into  the  ground. 

Taste  cold  and  darkness  and  oblivion  there : 

And  thence  rise,  tree-like,  grow  through  pain  to  joy. 

More  joy  and  most  joy, — ^do  man  good  again. 

Balaustion 
— Balaustion' s  Adventure 


The  power  I  sought  for  man,  seemed  God*s. 
In  this  conjuncture,  as  I  prayed  to  die, 
A  strange  adventure  made  me  know,  one  sin 
Had  spotted  my  career  from  its  uprise ; 
I  saw  Aprile — my  Aprile  there! 
And  as  the  poor  melodious  wretch  disburthened 
His  heart,  and  moaned  his  weakness  in  my  ear, 
I  learned  my  own  deep  error;  love's  undoing 
Taught  me  the  worth  of  love  in  man*s  estate. 
And  what  proportion  love  should  hold  with  power 
In  his  right  constitution;  love  preceding 


V 


96  BROWNING 

Power,  and  with  much  power,  always  much  more  love; 
Love  still  too  straitened  in  his  present  means, 
And  earnest  for  new  power  to  set  love  free. 

Paracelsus 

— Paracelsus 

"Stay!"  she  said.    "Keep  at  least  one  soul  unspecked 

With  crime,  that's  spotless  hitherto — your  own! 

Kill  me  who  court  the  blessing,  who  alone 

Was,  am,  and  shall  be  guilty,  first  to  last! 

The  man  lay  helpless  in  the  toils  I  cast 

About  him,  helpless  as  the  statue  there 

Against  that  strangling  bell-flower's  bondage:  tear 

Away  and  tread  to  dust  the  parasite. 

But  do  the  passive  marble  no  despite ! 

I  love  him  as  I  hate  you.     Kill  m.e !     Strike 

At  one  blow  both  infinitudes  alike 

Out  of  existence — hate  and  love!     Whence  love? 

That's  safe  inside  my  heart,  nor  will  remove 

For  any  searching  of  your  steel,  I  think." 

The  Wife 
— A  Forgiveness 

She  had 
A  heart — ^how  shall  I  say? — too  soon  made  glad, 
Too  easily  impressed ;  she  liked  whate'er 
She  looked  on,  and  her  looks  went  everywhere. 
Sir,  'twas  all  one!     My  favor  at  her  breast, 


SELECTIONS  97 

The  dropping  of  the  daylight  in  the  West, 
The  bough  of  cherries  some  officious  fool 
Broke  in  the  orchard  for  her,  the  white  mule 
She  rode  with  round  the  terrace — all  and  each 
Would  draw  from  her  alike  the  approving  speech. 
Or   blush,   at   least.     She   thanked   men, — good!   but 

thanked 
Somehow — I  know  not  how — as  if  she  ranked 
My  gift  of  a  nine-hundred-years-old  name 
With  anybody's  gift.    Who'd  stoop  to  blame 
This  sort  of  trifling? 

The  Duke 
— My  Last  Duchess 

Oh !  to  love  less  what  one  has  injured !  Dove, 
Whose  pinion  I  have  rashly  hurt,  my  breast — 
Shall  my  heart's  warmth  not  nurse  thee  into  strength? 
Flower  I  have  crushed,  shall  I  not  care  for  thee? 
Bloom  o'er  my  crest,  my  fight-mark  and  device ! 
Mildred,  I  love  you  and  you  love  me ! 

Mertoun 
— A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon 

Suppose  I've  made  her  eyes  all  right  and  blue, 
Can't  I  take  breath  and  try  to  add  life's  flash. 
And  then  add  soul  and  heighten  them  three-fold? 
Or  say  there's  beauty  with  no  soul  at  all — 
(I  never  saw  it — put  the  case  the  same — ) 


f 


\ 


98  BROWNING 

If  you  get  simple  beauty  and  naught  else, 

You  get  about  the  best  thing  God  invents : 

That's  somewhat:    and  you'll  find  the  soul  you  have 

missed, 
Within  yourself,  when  you  return  Him  thanks. 

Fra  Lippo  Lippi 
— Fra  Lippo  Lippi 


What  dost  thou  verily  trip  upon  a  word. 

Confound  the  accurate  view  of  what  joy  is 

(Caught  somewhat  clearer  by  my  eyes  than  thine) 

With  feeling  joy?  confound  the  knowing  how 

And  showing  how  to  live  (my  faculty) 

With  actually  living? — Otherwise 

Where  is  the  artist's  vantage  o'er  the  king? 

Because  in  my  great  epos  I  display 

How  divers  men  young,  strong,  fair,  wise,  can  act — 

Is  this  as  though  I  acted  ?  if  I  paint. 

Carve  the  young  Phoebus,  am  I  therefore  young? 

Methinks  I'm  older  that  I  bowed  myself 

The  many  years  of  pain  that  taught  me  art! 

Indeed,  to  know  is  something,  and  to  prove 

How  all  this  beauty  might  be  enjoyed,  is  more : 

But,  knowing  naught,  to  enjoy  is  something  too. 

Yon  rower,  with  the  moulded  muscles  there, 

Lowering  the  sail,  is  nearer  it  than  I. 

I  can  write  love-odes:   thy  fair  slave's  an  ode. 


SELECTIONS  99 

I  get  to  sing  of  love,  when  grown  too  gray 
For  being  beloved:   she  turns  to  that  young  man, 
The  muscles  all  a-ripple  on  his  back.  Cleon 

— Cleon 

I  often  am  much  wearier  than  you  think 
This  evening  more  than  usual:  and  it  seems 
As  if — forgive  now — should  you  let  me  sit 
Here  by  the  window,  with  your  hand  in  mine, 
And  look  a  half  hour  forth  on  Fiesole, 
Both  of  one  mind,  as  married  people  use. 
Quietly,  quietly  the  evening  through, 
I  might  get  up  to-morrow  to  my  work 
Cheerful  and  fresh  as  ever.    Let  us  try. 
To-morrow,  how  you  shall  be  glad  for  this! 
Your  soft  hand  is  a  woman  of  itself. 
And  mine,  the  man's  bared  breast  she  curls  inside. 

Andrea  del  Sarto 
— Andrea  del  Sarto 

"Since  I  could  die  now  of  the  truth  concealed, 
Yet  dare  not,  must  not  die — so  seems  revealed 
The  Virgin's  mind  to  me — for  death  means  peace, 
Wherein  no  lawful  part  have  I  whose  lease 
Of  life  and  punishment  the  truth  avowed 
May  haply  lengthen, — let  me  push  the  shroud 
Away,  that  steals  to  muffle  ere  is  just 
My  penance-fire  in  snow!     I  dare — I  must 


100  BROWNING 

Live,  by  avowal  of  the  truth — this  truth — 

I  loved  you !    Thanks  for  the  fresh  serpent's  tooth 

That,  by  a  prompt  new  pang  more  exquisite 

Than  all  preceding  torture,  proves  me  right! 

I  loved  you  yet  I  lost  you !    May  I  go 

Burn  to  the  ashes,  now  my  shame  you  know?" 

The  Wife 
— A  Forgiveness 

Who  summoned  those  cold  laces  that  begun 
To  press  on  me  and  judge  me  ?    Though  I  stooped 

Shrinking  as  from  the  soldiery  a  nun, 
They  drew  me  forth,  and  spite  of  me   .      .      .   enough ! 

These  buy  and  sell  our  pictures,  take  and  give. 
Count  them  for  garniture  and  household  stuff, 

And  where  they  live  needs  must  our  picture  live 
And  see  their  faces,  listen  to  their  prate, 

Partakers  of  their  daily  pettiness, 
Discussed  of, — "This  I  love,  or  this  I  hate, 

This  likes  me  more,  and  this  affects  me  less !" 
Wherefore  I  choose  my  portion.     If  at  whiles 

My  heart  sinks,  as  monotonous  I  paint 
These  endless  cloisters  and  eternal  isles 

With  the  same  series.  Virgin,  Babe,  and  Saint, 
With  the  same  cold,  calm,  beautiful  regard, — 

At  least  no  merchant  traffics  in  my  heart. 

Pictor  Ignotus 
— Pictor  Ignotus 


J     >  J    i     J    J       ■> 
■)     J  5    J     >      3     J 


SELECTIONS  loi 

But  this  does  overwhelm  me  with  surprise, 
Touch  me  to  terror — not  that  faith,  the  pearl, 
Should  be  let  lie  by  fishers  wanting  food, — 
Nor  seen  and  handled  by  a  certain  few 
Critical  and  contemptuous,  straight  consigned 
To  shore  and  shingle  for  the  pebble  it  proves, — 
But  that,  when  haply  found  and  known  and  named 
By  thy  residue  made  rich  for  evermore, 
These, — these  favored  ones,  should  in  a  trice 
Turn,  and  with  double  zest  go  dredge  for  welks. 
Mud- worms  that  make  the  savory  soup! 

The  Pope 
— The  Ring  and  the  Book 


Then,  Lady  Blanche,  it  less  would  move 

In  heart  and  soul  of  me  disgust 
Did  you  strip  off  those  spoils  you  wear. 
And  stand — for  thanks,  not  shillings — bare. 
To  help  Art  like  any  Model  there. 
She  well  knew  what  absolved  her — praise 

In  me  for  God's  surpassing  good. 
Who  granted  to  my  reverent  gaze 

A  type  of  purest  womanhood. 
You — clothed  with  murder  of  His  best 
Of  harmless  beings — stand  the  test! 
What  is  it  you  know?  He 

— The  Lady  and  the  Painter 


^ 


102  BROWNING 

If  you  loved  only  what  were  worth  your  love, 
Love  were  clear  gain  and  wholly  well  for  you: 
Make  the  low  nature  better  by  your  throes ! 
Give  earth  yourself,  go  up  for  gain  above. 

James  Lee's  Wife 

Little  girl  with  the  poor  coarse  hand 

I  turned  from  to  a  cold  clay  cast — 
I  have  my  lesson,  understand 

The  worth  of  flesh  and  blood  at  last. 
Nothing  but  beauty  in  a  hand? 

Because  he  could  not  change  the  hue. 

Mend  the  lines  and  make  them  true 
To  this  which  met  his  soul's  demand, — 

Would  Da  Vinci  turn  from  you? 

James  Lee's  Wife 

Life!  Yet  the  very  cup  whose  extreme  dull 
Dregs,  even,  I  would  quaff,  was  dashed,  at  full, 
Aside  so  oft;  the  death  I  fly,  revealed 
So  oft  a  better  life  this  life  concealed. 
And  which  sage,  champion,  m.artyr,  through  each  path 
Have  hunted  fearlessly — the  horrid  bath. 
The  crippling-irons  and  the  fiery  chair. 
'T  was  well  for  them;  let  me  become  aware 
As  they,  and  I  relinquished  life,  too !    Let 
What  masters  life  disclose  itself !    Forget 


SELECTIONS  103 

Vain  ordinances,  I  have  one  appeal — 

I  feel,  am  what  I  feel,  know  what  I  feel ; 

So  much  is  truth  to  me.    What  Is,  then?    Since 

One  object,  viewed  diversely,  may  evince 

Beauty  and  ugliness — this  way  attract, 

That  way  repel, — why  gloze  upon  the  fact? 

Why  must  a  single  of  the  sides  be  right? 

What  bids  choose  this  and  leave  the  opposite? 

Where's  abstract  Right  for  me? — in  youth  endued 

With  Right  still  present,  still  to  be  pursued, 

Thro'  all  the  interchange  of  circles,  rife 

Each  with  its  proper  law  and  mode  of  life, 

Each  to  be  dwelt  at  ease  in :  where,  to  sway 

Absolute  with  the  Kaiser,  or  obey 

Implicit  v^th  his  serf  of  fluttering  heart. 

Or,  like  a  sudden  thought  of  God's,  to  start 

Up,  Brutus  in  the  presence,  then  go  shout 

That  some  should  pick  the  unstrung  jewels  out — 

Each,  well.  Sordello 

— Sordello 

What  my  soul?    See  thus  far  and  no  farther?    When 

doors  great  and  small, 
Nine-and-ninety  flew  open  at  our  touch,  should  the 

hundredth  appall? 
In  the   least  things  have   faith,   yet   distrust   in  the 

greatest  of  all? 
Do  I  find  love  so  full  in  my  nature  God's  ultimate  gift, 


104  BROWNING 

That  I  doubt  His  own  love  can  compete  with  it?  Here, 

the  parts  shift? 
Here,  the  creature  surpass  the  Creator — the  end,  what 

began? 
Would  I  fain  in  my  impotent  yearning  do  all  for  this 

man. 
And  dare  doubt  He  alone  shall  not  help  him,  who  yet 

alone  can? 
Would  it  ever  have  entered  my  mind,  the  bare  will, 

much  less  power. 
To  bestow  on  this  Saul  what  I  sang  of,  the  marvelous 

dower 
Of  the  life  he  was  gifted  and  filled  with?  to  make  such 

a  soul, 
Such  a  body,  and  then  such  an  earth  for  insphering  the 

whole? 

David 
— Said 


How  plainly  is  true  greatness  charactered 
By  such  unconscious  sport  as  Luria's  here, 
Strength  sharing  least  the  secret  of  itself ! 
Be  it  with  head  that  schemes  or  hand  that  acts, 
Such  save  the  world  which  none  but  they  could  save, 
Yet  think  whate'er  they  did,  that  world  could  do. 

Domizia 
— Litria 


SELECTIONS  105 

Now,  1*11  say  something  to  remember. 
I  trust  in  nature  for  the  stable  laws 
Of  beauty  and  utility. — Spring  shall  plant, 
And  Autumn  gamer  to  the  end  of  time ; 
I  trust  in  God — the  right  shall  be  the  right 
And  other  than  the  wrong,  while  he  endures : 
I  trust  in  my  own  soul,  that  can  perceive 
The  outward  and  the  inward,  nature's  good 
And  God's :  so,  seeing  these  men  and  myself. 
Having  a  right  to  speak,  thus  do  I  speak. 
I'll  not  curse — God  bears  with  them,  well  may  I — 
But  I — protest  against  their  claiming  me. 
I  simply  say,  if  that's  allowable, 
I  would  not  (broadly)  do  as  they  have  done. 

Chiappino 
— A  Soul's  Tragedy 

What's  poetry  except  a  power  that  makes? 
And,  speaking  to  one's  sense,  inspires  the  rest, 
Pressing  them  all  into  its  service ;  so 
That  who  sees  painting,  seems  to  hear  as  well 
The  speech  that's  proper  for  the  painted  mouth ; 
And  who  hears  music,  feels  his  solitude 
Peopled  at  once — for  how  count  heart-beats  plain 
Unless  a  company,  with  hearts  which  beat. 
Come  close  to  the  musician,  seen  or  no? 
And  who  receives  true  verse  at  eye  or  ear, 
Takes  in  (with  verse)  time,  place,  and  person  too, 


io6  BROWNING 

So,  links  each  sense  on  to  its  sister-sense, 
Grace-like:   and  what  if  but  one  sense  of  three 
Front  you  at  once?    The  sidelong  pair  conceive 
Through  faintest  touch  of  finest  finger-tips, — 
Hear,  see,  and  feel,  in  faith's  simplicity. 
Alike,  v^hat  one  was  sole  recipient  of : 
Who  hears  the  poem,  therefore,  sees  the  play. 

Balaustion 
— Balaustion' s  Adventure 


Our  duty  is  to  live  one  life,  not  two ! 

Balaustion 
— Balaustion' s  Adventure 


For  all,  love  greatens  and  glorifies 
Till  God's  a-glow  to  the  loving  eyes. 
In  what  was  mere  earth  before. 

James  Lee's  Wife 


Was  the  trial  sore? 
Temptation  sharp?    Thank  God  a  second  time! 
Why  come  temptation  but  for  a  man  to  meet 
And  master  and  make  crouch  beneath  his  foot. 
And  so  be  pedestaled  in  triumph. 

The  Pope 


SELECTIONS  107 

The  moral  sense  grows  but  by  exercise. 
'Tis  even  as  man  grew  probatively 
Initiated  in  Godship,  set  to  make 
A  fairer  moral  world  than  this  he  finds. 
Guess  now  what  shall  be  known  hereafter. 

The  Pope 

Foolish  Jules!  and  yet,  after  all,  why  foolish?  He 
may — probably  will,  fail  egregiously;  but  if  there 
should  arise  a  new  painter,  will  it  not  be  in  some  such 
way  by  a  poet  now,  or  a  musician — spirits  who  have 
conceived  and  perfected  an  ideal  through  some  other 
channel — transferring  it  to  this,  and  escaping  our  con- 
ventional roads  by  pure  ignorance  of  them. 

Monsignor 
— Pip  pa  Passes 

He's  gone.    Oh !  I'll  believe  him  every  word ! 

I  was  so  young,  I  loved  him  so,  I  had 

No  mother,  God  forgot  me,  and  I  fell. 

There  may  be  pardon  yet;  all's  doubt  beyond. 

Surely  the  bitterness  of  death  is  passed!     ,,., ,     , 
^  ^  Mildred 

— A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon 

'Tis  work  for  work's  sake  that  man's  needing : 
Let  him  work  on  and  on  as  if  speeding 
Work's  end,  but  not  dream  of  succeeding. 

Pacchiarotto 

— Pacchiarotto 


io8  BROWNING 

Saints  to  do  us  good 
Must  be  in  heaven,  I  seem  to  understand. 
We  never  find  them  saints  before  at  least. 

Caponsacchi 
— The  Ring  and  the  Book 

I  talk  impertinently,  and  you  hear 
All  the  same.    This  it  is  to  have  to  do 
With  honest  hearts :  they  easily  may  err, 
But  in  the  main  they  wish  well  to  truth. 

Caponsacchi 
— The  Ring  and  the  Book 

\  Man  shrinks  to  naught 

If  matched  with  symbols  of  immensity; 
Must  quail,  forsooth,  before  a  quiet  sky 
Or  sea,  too  little  for  their  quietude. 

Eglamor 
— Sordello 


Hans  must  not  bum  Kant's  house  above  his  head 
Because  he  cannot  understand  Kant's  book. 
And  still  less  must  his  pastor  bum  Kant*s  self 
Because  Kant  understands  some  books  too  well. 
Prince  Hohenstiel-Schwangau  (Napoleon  III) 

— Prince  H oh.c^:stirl-S chwau qan 


SELECTIONS  109 

Right  promptly  done  is  twice  right ;  right  delayed 
Turns  wrong. 

Dominus  Hyacinthus  De  Archangelis 

— The  Ring  and  the  Book 

There's  heaven  above,  and  night  by  night 
I  look  right  through  its  gorgeous  roof ; 
No  suns  and  moons  though  e*er  so  bright 
Avail  to  stop  me ;  splendor-proof 
I  keep  the  brood  of  stars  aloof: 
For  I  intend  to  get  to  God, 
For  'tis  to  God  I  speed  so  fast. 
For  in  God's  breast,  my  own  abode. 
Those  shoals  of  dazzling  glory,  passed, 
I  lay  my  spirit  down  at  last.  Agricola 

— Johannes  of  Agricola  in  Meditation 

How  inexhaustibly  the  spirit  grows ! 
One  object,  she  seemed  erewhile  bom  to  reach 
With  her  whole  energies  and  die  content, — 
So  like  a  wall  at  the  world's  edge  it  stood. 
With   naught  beyond  the  world  to  live  for,  is  that 

reached? 
Already  are  new  undreamed  energies 
Outgrowing  under,  and  extending  farther 
To  a  new  object;  there's  another  world. 

Domizia 
— Luria 


no  BROWNING 

Let  us  not  always  say 
"Spite  of  this  flesh  to-day 

I  strove,  made  head,  gained  ground  upon  the  whole!" 
As  the  bird  wings  and  sings, 
Let  us  cry  "All  good  things 

Are  ours,  nor  soul  helps  flesh  more,  now,  than  flesh 
helps  soul."  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 

— Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 

For  more  is  not  reserved 
To  man,  with  soul  just  nerved 
To  act  to-morrow  what  he  learns  to-day; 
Here,  work  enough  to  watch 
The  Master  work,  and  catch 

Hints  of  the  proper  craft,  tricks  of  the  tool's  true  play. 

Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 
— Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 

To   Ancona — Greece— some   isle! 
I  wanted  silence  only!  there  is  clay 
Everywhere.    One  may  do  whatever  one  likes 
In  art ;  the  only  thing  is,  to  make  sure 
That  one  does  like  it — which  takes  pains  to  know. 
Scatter  all  this,  my  Phene — this  mad  dream! 
Who,  what  is  Lutwyche,  what  Natalia's  friends, 
What  the  whole  world  except  our  love — my  own. 
Own  Phene?    But  I  told  you,  did  I  net, 
Ere  ni'jht  we  travel  for  your  land — some  isle 


SELECTIONS  iii 

With  the  sea's  silence  on  it?    Stand  aside — 

I  do  but  break  these  paltry  models  up 

To  begin  art  afresh.  Jules 

— Pip  pa  Passes 

There  is  no  good  of  life  but  love,  but  love ! 

What  else  looks  good  is  some  shade  flung  from  love — 

Love  gilds  it,  gives  it  worth.  The  Queen 

— In  a  Balcony 

Because  not  one  of  Berthold's  words  and  looks 
Had  gone  with  love's  presentment  of  a  flower 
To  the  beloved;  because  bold  confidence. 
Open  superiority,  free  pride — 
Love  ov/ns  not.  Valence 

— Colomhe's  Birthday 

Hear  Cleves! 
Whose  haggard  craftsman  rose  to  starve  this  day, 
Starve  now,  and  will  lie  down  at  night  to  starve. 
Sure  of  a  like  to-morrow — ^but  as  sure 
Of  a  most  unlike  to-morrow — after — that, 
Since  end  things  m.ust,  end  howsoe'er  things  may. 
What  curbs  the  brute-force  instinct  in  its  hour? 
What  makes — instead  of  rising,  all  as  one, 
And  teaching  fingers,  so  expert  to  wield 
Their  tool,  the  broadsword's  play  or  carbine's  trick — 
What  makes  that  there's  an  easier  help,  they  think. 


112  BROWNING 

For  you,  whose  name  so  few  of  them  can  spell, 

Whose  face  scarce  one  of  them  in  every  hundred  saw- 

You  simply  have  to  understand  their  wrongs, 

And  wrongs  will  vanish — so,  still  trades  are  plied, 

And  swords  lie  rusting,  and  myself  stand  here? 

There  is  a  vision  in  the  heart  of  each 

Of  justice,  mercy,  wisdom,  tenderness 

To  wrong  and  pain,  and  knowledge  of  its  cure; 

And  these  embodied  in  a  woman's  form 

That  best  transmits  them,  pure  as  first  received. 

From  God  above  her,  to  mankind  below. 

Will  you  derive  your  rule  from  such  a  ground, 

Or  rather  hold  it  by  the  suffrage,  say. 

Of  this  man — this — and  this? 

Valence 
— Colomhe's  Birthday 


I  answered,  "He  will  come." 
And,  all  day,  I  sent  prayer  like  incense  up 
To  God  the  strong,  God  the  beneficent, 
God  ever  mindful  in  all  strife  and  strait. 
Who,  for  our  own  good,  makes  the  need  extreme. 
Till  at  the  last  he  puts  forth  might  and  saves. 

Pompilia 
— The  Ring  and  the  Book 


SELECTIONS  113 

Yet  seems  this  patriotism 
The  easiest  virtue  for  a  selfish  man 
To  acquire !    He  loves  himself,  and  next,  the  world — 
If  he  must  love  beyond — but  naught  between: 
As  a  short-sighted  man  sees  naught  midway 
His  body  and  the  sun  above.  Mother 

— Pippa  Passes 

Why,  you  must  deal  with  people  broadly.  Begin  at 
a  distance  from  this  matter  and  say, — New  truths,  old 
truths!  sirs,  there  is  nothing  new  possible  to  be  re- 
vealed to  us  in  the  moral  world ;  we  know  all  we  shall 
ever  know:  and  it  is  for  simply  reminding  us,  by  their 
various  respective  expedients,  how  we  do  know  this 
and  the  other  matter,  that  men  get  called  prophets, 
poets  and  the  like.  A  philosopher's  life  is  spent  in  dis- 
covering that,  of  the  half-dozen  truths  he  knew  when 
a  child,  such  an  one  is  a  lie,  as  the  world  states  it  in 
set  terms ;  and  then,  after  a  weary  lapse  of  years,  and 
plenty  of  hard-thinking,  it  becomes  a  truth  again  after 
all,  as  he  happens  newly  to  consider  it  and  view  it  in 
a  different  relation  with  the  others:  and  so  he  re- 
states it,  to  the  confusion  of  somebody  else  in  good 
time.  As  for  adding  to  the  original  stock  of  truths, — 
impossible!  Thus,  you  see  the  expression  of  them  is 
the  grand  business: — you  have  got  a  truth  in  your 
head  about  the  right  way  of  governing  people,  and 
you  took  a  mode  of  expressing  it  which  now  you 


114  BROWNING 

confess  to  be  imperfect.  But  what  then?  There  is 
truth  in  falsehood,  falsehood  in  truth.  No  man  ever 
told  one  great  truth,  that  I  know,  without  the  help 
of  a  good  dozen  of  lies  at  least,  generally  unconscious 
ones.  Cgniben 

— A  Soul's  Tragedy 

Sure  he's  arrived. 
The  tell-tale  cuckoo — -Spring's  his  confidant. 
And  he  lets  out  her  April  purposes!) 
Or — better  go  at  once  to  modern  time — 
He  has — they  have — in  fact,  I  understand 
But  can't  restate  the  matter;  that's  my  boast: 
Others  could  reason  it  out  to  you,  and  prove 
Things  they  have  made  me  feel.  Luigi 

— Pippa  Passes 

"Your  heart's   queen, 
you  dethrone  her? 
So  should  I!" 

"  'twas  mere  vanity, 
Not  love,  set  that  task  to  humanity !" 

The  King 
— The  Glove 

Be  sure  they  sleep  not  whom  God  needs. 

Paracelsus 
— Paracelsus 


SELECTIONS  115 

"Yea,  my  King," 
I  began,  "thou  dost  well  in  rejecting  mere  comforts 

that  spring 
From  the  mere  mortal  life  held  in  common  by  man 

and  by  beasts: 
In  our  flesh  grows  the  branch  of  this  life,  in  our  soul 
it  bears  fruit."  David 

— Saul 

Keep  but  God's  model  safe,  new  men  will  rise. 
To  take  its  mould,  and  other  days  to  prove 
How  great  a  good  was  Luria's  glory. 

Tiburzio 

— Luria 

How  dared  I  let  expand  the  force 
Within  me,  till  some  out-soul,  whose  resource 
It  grew  for,  should  direct  it?    Every  law 
Of  life,  its  every  fitness,  every  flaw, 
Must  One  determine  whose  corporeal  shape 
Would  be  no  other  than  the  prime  escape 
And  revelation  to  me  of  a  Will 
Orb-like  o'ershrouded  and  inscrutable 
Above,  save  at  the  point  which,  I  should  know, 
Shone  that  myself,  my  powers,  might  overflow 
So  far,  so  much;  as  now  it  signified 
Which  earthly  shape  it  henceforth  chose  my  guide, 
Whose  mortal  lip  selected  to  declare 


ii6  BROWNING 

Its  oracles,  what  fleshly  garb  would  wear 

— The  first  of  intimations,  whom  to  love ; 

The  next,  how  love  him.  Palma 

— Sordello 

You  have  the  fellow-craftsman's  sympathy. 
There's  none  cares,  like  a  fellow  of  the  craft, 
For  the  all-unestimated  sum  of  pains 
That  go  to  a  success  the  world  can  see; 
They  praise  then,  but  the  best  they  never  know 

— While  you  know!    So,  if  envy  mix  with  it, 
Hate  even,  still  the  bottom-praise  of  all. 
Whatever  be  the  dregs,  that  drop's  pure  gold! 

— For  nothing's  like  it;  nothing  else  records 
Those  daily,  nightly  drippings  in  the  dark 
Of  the  heart's  blood,  the  world  lets  drop  away 
Forever — so,  pure  gold  that  praise  must  be! 
And  I  have  yours,  my  soldier!  Luria 

— Luria 

How  strange! 
Look  at  the  woman  here  with  the  new  soul. 
Like  my  own  Psyche — fresh  upon  her  lips 
Alit  the  visionary  butterfly, 
Waiting  my  word  to  enter  and  make  bright, 
Or  flutter  off  and  leave  all  blank  as  first. 
This  body  had  no  soul  before,  but  slept 
Or  stirred,  was  beauteous  or  ungainly,  free 


SELECTIONS  riy 

From  taint  or  foul  with  stain,  as  outward  things 
Fastened  their  image  on  its  passiveness; 
Now,  it  will  wake,  feel,  live — or  die  again! 
Shall  to  produce  form  out  of  unshaped  stuff 
Be  art — and,  further,  to  evoke  a  soul 
From  form  be  nothing?    This  new  soul  is  mine! 

Jules 
— Pippa  Passes 

I  am  judged. 
There  burns  a  truer  light  of  God  in  them, 
In  their  vexed  beating  stuffed  and  stopped-up  brain. 
Heart,  or  whate'er  else,  than  goes  on  to  prompt 
This  low-pulsed  forthright  craftsman's  hand  of  mine. 
Their  work  drop  groundward,  but  them.selves  I  know 
Reach  many  a  time  a  heaven  that's  shut  to  me, 
Enter  and  take  their  place  there  sure  enough, 
Though  they  come  back  and  cannot  tell  the  world. 
My  works  are  nearer  heaven,  but  I  sit  here. 

Andrea  del  Sarto 
— Andrea  del  Sarto 

All  service  ranks  the  same  with  God : 

If  now,  as  formerly  he  trod ; 

Paradise,  his  presence  fills 

Our  earth,  each  only  as  God  wills 

Can  work — God's  puppets,  best  and  worst. 

Are  we,  there  is  no  last  nor  first.  Pippa 

— Pippa  Passes 


ii8  BROWNING 

And  doth  it  not  enter  my  mind  (as  my  warm  tears 
attest}, 

These  good  things  given,  to  go  on,  and  give  one  more, 
the  best? 

Ay,  to  save  and  redeem  and  restore  him,  maintain  at 
the  height 

This  perfection, — succeed  with  life's  dayspring,  death's 
minute  of  night? 

Interpose  at  the  difficult  minute,  snatch  Saul  the  mis- 
take, 

Saul  the  failure,  the  ruin  he  seems  now, — and  bid  him 
awake 

From  the  dream,  the  probation,  the  prelude,  to  find 
himself  set 

Clear  and   safe   in  new  light  and  new  life, — a  new 
harmony  yet 

To  be  run,  and  continued  and  ended— who  knows? — 
or  endure! 

The  man  taught  enough  by  life's  dream,  of  the  rest 
to  make  sure; 

By  the  pain-throb,  triumphantly  v/inning  intensified 
bliss. 

And  the  next  world's  reward  and  repose,  by  the  strug- 
gles in  this. 

David 
— Saul 


SELECTIONS 


119 


The  year's  at  the  Spring 
And  day's  at  the  morn ; 
Morning's  at  seven ; 
The  hillside's  dew-pearled; 
The  lark's  on  the  wing ; 
The  snail's  on  the  thorn : 
God's  in  his  heaven — 
All's  right  with  the  world ! 


Pippa 

-Pip pa  Passes 


In  my  own  heart  love  had  not  been  made  wise 
To  trace  love's  faint  beginnings  in  mankind, 
To  know  even  hate  is  but  a  mask  of  love's, 
To  see  a  good  in  evil,  and  a  hope 
In  ill-success;  to  sympathize,  be  proud 
Of  their  half-reasons,  faint  aspirings,  dim 
Struggles  for  truth,  their  poorest  fallacies, 
Their  prejudice  and  fears  and  cares  and  doubts; 
All  with  a  touch  of  nobleness,  despite 
Their  error,  upward  tending  all  though  weak. 
Like  plants  in  mines  which  never  sav/  the  sun, 
But  dream  of  him,  and  guess  where  he  may  be, 
And  do  their  best  to  climb  and  get  to  him. 
All  this  I  knew  not,  and  I  failed. 

Paracelsus 
— Paracelsus 


I    \ 


120  BROWNING 

Whereat  the  hero,  who  was  truth  itself, 

Let  out  the  smile  again,  repressed  awhile 

Like  fountain-brilliance  one  forbids  to  play. 

He  did  too  many  grandnesses,  to  note 

Much  in  the  meaner  things  about  his  path: 

And  stepping  there,  with  face  towards  the  sun, 

Stopped  seldom  to  pluck  weeds  or  ask  their  names. 

Therefore  he  took  Admetos  at  the  word: 

This  trouble  must  not  hinder  any  more 

A  true  heart  from  good  will  and  pleasant  ways. 

And  so,  the  great  arm,  which  had  slain  the  snake, 

Strained  his  friend's  head  a  moment  in  embrace 

On  that  broad  breast  beneath  the  lion's  hide, 

Till  the  king's  cheek  v/inced  at  the  thick  rough  gold; 

And  then  strode  off,  with  who  had  care  of  him. 

To  the  remote  guest-chamber:  glad  to  give 

Poor  flesh  and  blood  their  respite  and  relief 

In  the  interval  'twixt  fight  and  fight  again — 

All  for  the  world's  sake.    Our  eyes  followed  him, 

Be  sure,  till  those  mid-doors  shut  us  outside. 

The  king,  too,  watched  great  Herakles  go  off 

All  faith,  love,  and  obedience  to  a  friend. 

Balaustion 
— Balaustion's  Adventure 

Let  love  trust  friend,  and  love  demand  its  like. 

Luria 
— Liiria 


SELECTIONS  121 

Faster  and  more  fast, 
O'er  night's  brim  day  boils  at  last: 
Boils,  pure  gold,  o'er  the  cloud-cup's  brim 
Where  spurting  and  suppressed  it  lay, 
For  not  a  froth-flake  touched  the  rim 
Of  yonder  gap  in  the  solid  grey 
Of  the  eastern  cloud,  an  hour  away; 
But  forth  one  wavelet,  then  another,  curled 
Till  the  whole  sunrise,  not  to  be  suppressed. 
Rose,  reddened,  and  its  seething  breast 
Flickered  in  bounds,  grew  gold,  then  overflowed  the 
world.  Pippa 

— Pippa  Passes 

All  regulated  by  the  single  care 

I*  the  last  resort — that  I  made  thoroughly  serve 

The  when  and  hov/,  toiled  where  was  need,  reposed 

As  resolutely  at  the  proper  point, 

Braved  sorrow,  courted  joy,  to  just  one  end: 

Namely,  that  just  the  creature  I  was  bound 

To  be,  I  should  become,  nor  thwart  at  all 

God's  purpose  in  creation.    I  conceive 

No  other  duty  possible  to  man, — 

Highest  mind,  lowest  mind, — no  other  law 

By  which  to  judge  life  failure  or  success: 

What  folk  called  being  saved  or  cast  away! 

Prince  Hohenstiel-Schwangau  (Napoleon  III) 
— Prince  Hohenstiel-Schzvan zau 


122  BROWNING 

All  tnat  IS  at  all 
Lasts  ever,  past  recall; 

Earth  changes,  but  thy  soul  and  God  stand  sure ; 
What  entered  into  thee, 
That  was,  is,  and  shall  be: 

Time's  wheel  runs  back  or  stops;  Potter  and  clay. 

Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 
— Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 

He  recognized  that  for  great  minds  i'  the  world 
There  is  no  trial  like  the  appropriate  one 
Of  leaving  little  minds  their  liberty 
Of  littleness  to  blunder  en  through  life, 
Now  aiming  at  right  ends  by  foolish  means, 
Now,  at  absurd  achievement  through  the  aid 
Of  good  and  wise  endeavor — to  acquiesce 
In  folly's  life-long  privilege,  though  with  power 
To  do  the  little  minds  the  good  they  need, 
Despite  themselves,  by  just  abolishing 
Their  right  to  play  the  part  and  fill  the  place 
I'  the  scheme  of  things  He  schemed  who  made  a  like 
Great  minds  and  little  minds,  saw  use  for  each. 
Prince  Hohenstiel-Schwangau  (Napoleon  III) 

— Prince  Hohcnstiel-ScJnvangau 

When  is  man  strong  until  he  feels  alone? 

Valence 

— Colombe's  Birthday 


SELECTIONS  123 

Say  not  "a  small  event!"    Why  "small"? 
Costs  it  more  pain  than  this,  ye  call 
A  "great  event,"  should  come  to  pass. 
Than  that?    Untwine  one  from  the  mass 
Of  deeds  which  m.ake  up  life,  one  deed 
Power  shall  fall  short  in  or  exceed ! 

Pippa 
— Pippa  Passes 


Overhead  the  treetops  meet, 
Flowers  and  grass  spring  'neath  one*s  feet; 
There  was  naught  above  me,  naught  below. 
My  childhood  had  not  learned  to  know: 
For,  what  are  the  voices  of  birds 
— Ah,  and  of  beasts, — but  words,  our  words, 
Only  so  much  more  sweet? 
The  knowledge  of  that  with  my  life  begun. 
But  I  had  so  near  made  out  the  sun, 
And  counted  your  stars,  the  seven  and  one. 
Like  the  fingers  of  my  hand : 
Nay,  I  could  all  but  understand 
V/herefore  through  heaven  the  white  moon  ranges ; 
And  just  when  out  of  her  soft  fifty  changes 
No  unfamiliar  face  might  overlook  me — 
Suddenly  God  took  me. 

Pippa 
— Pippa  Passes 


124  BROWNING 

Conceded!    In  turn  concede  to  me, 

Such  things  have  been  as  a  mutual  flame 

Your  soul's  locked  fast:   but  love  for  a  key 
You  might  let  it  loose,  till  I  grew  the  same 

In  your  eyes  as  in  mine  you  stand!     Strange  plea. 

James  Lee's  Wife 


To  learn  not  only  by  the  comet's  rush 

But  a  rose's  birth, — not  by  the  grandeur,  God — 

But  the  comfort,  Christ. 

Caponsacchi 
— The  Ring  and  the  Book 


God  bless  me !    I  can  pray  no  more  to-night. 
No  doubt,  some  way  or  other,  hymns  say  right 

All  service  ranks  the  same  zvith  God — 
With  God,  whose  puppets,  best  and  zvorst. 
Are  we:  there  is  no  last  or  first. 

Pippa 
— Pippa  Passes 


BOOKS  FOR  REFERENCE 


BOOKS   FOR  REFERENCE 

Recommended  by  the  Nezif  York  Brozvning  Society 

Brov/ning's  England  (Illustrated) 
^    Browning's  Italy  (Illustrated) 

Helen  Archibald  Clarke.    The  Baker  &  Taylor  Co. 
Best  in  Browning,  The 

Rev.  James  Mudge,  D.D.    Eaton  &  Mains, 
^^^rowning,  Man  and  Poet 

Elizabeth  Luther  Cary.    G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons. 
Browning  Guide  Book 

George  V/illis  Cooke.    Koughton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 
Browning:    Biographical    Notes,    Appreciations    and 
Selections 
Pauline  Leavens.    The  Alice  Harriman  Co. 
Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning 

Martha  Foote  Crow.    Eaton  &  Mains. 
Florence  in  the  Poetry  of  the  Brownings 

Anna  Benneson  McMahon.    McClurg  &  Co. 
Introduction  to  Study  of  Browning 

Arthur  Symons.    E.  P.  Button  &  Co. 
Introduction  to  the  Stuidy  of  Browning 
Kiram  Corson,  LL.D.    Heath  &  Co. 
^    Interpretation,  An  (The  Ring  and  the  Book) 

Francis  Bickford  Hornblower,  D.D.  Little,  Brown 
&  Co. 
^jrf^Rfble  in  Browning,  The 

Minnie  Gresham  Machen.    Macmillan  Co. 
Brovsming  and  Dogma 
i^^s^j  Ethel  M.  Naish.    Macmillan  Co. 
(iBr^.vning  as  a  Philosophical  and  Religious  Teacher 
J*^  Henry  Jones,  LL.D.    Macmillan  Co. 

1. 1        •  "^ 


"T 


,<?''i»'^ 


128  BROWNING 

Letters  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning 

Edited  by  Frederic  G.  Kenyon.    Macmillan  Co. 
Letters  of  Robert  Browning  and  Elizabeth  Barrett, 

Harper  and  Brothers. 
Life  of  Browning 

Gilbert  Keith  Chesterton.    Macmillan  Co. 
Poetry  of  Robert  Browning,  The 

Stopford  A.  Brooke,  M.A.    Crowell  &  Co. 
Pippa  Passes  (Illustrated) 

Margaret  Armstrong.     Dodd,  Mead  Co. 
Poems  of  Robert  Bro^Aming 

(Everyman's  Library).     E.  P.  Button  &  Co. 
Poems  of  Robert  Browning 

Edited  by  Charlotte  Porter  and  Helen  A.  Clarke. 

Crowell  &  Co. 
Primer  of  BrowTiing 

Edward  Bedoe.    E.  P.  Button  &  Co. 
Robert  Browning.    Essays  and  Thoughts 

John  T.  Nettleship.     Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 
Robert  Browning 

Edward  Bowden.    Button  &  Co. 
Robert  Browning 

Charles  H.  Herford.     Bodd,  Mead  Co. 
Robert  Browning  Personalia 

Edmond  Gosse.    Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 
Robert  Browning's  Complete  Works   (Illustrated) 

Editions  de  luxe  (Asolo),  (Assisi),  (Florentine). 

Introduction  by  Wm.  Lyon  Phelps.    Fred  Be  Fau 

&  Co. 
Vitality  of  Browning,  The 

Thomas  Marc  Parrott.    James  Pott  &  Co. 


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